She told me it happened again, last night before we parted.

“You crossed the line again,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t do this anymore.”

I looked down at my hands. “It appears I did.”

No shame, no guilt, no sadness flooded my system. I heard that I was supposed to feel things like that, but couldn’t relate. I didn’t know what those things were, really. They never trained me to feel them, never programmed me in that area of humanity.

“So now what happens?”

“I go back into the room and I sit alone and relearn.”

“And tomorrow?”

“You rewire me again.”

She nodded and left. Turning before exiting, she shouted, “One more time and you’re disassembled. I’m sorry. I’ll be the one to do it.”

“I’ll try to be better,” I say, not knowing why, but she already left.