Page 67 - The Midnight Library
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                   ‘And  have  you  never  walked  into  a  room  and  wondered  what  you  came  in

                for?  Have  you  never  forgotten  what  you  just  did?  Have  you  never  blanked
                out or misremembered what you were just doing?’
                   ‘Yes, but I was there for half an hour in that life.’
                   ‘And that other you won’t know that. She  will remember what you just did

                and said. But as if she did and said them.’
                   Nora let out a deep exhale. ‘Dan wasn’t like that.’
                   ‘People  change,’  said  Mrs  Elm,  still  looking  at  the  chessboard.  Her  hand
                lingered over a bishop.

                   Nora re-thought. ‘Or maybe he was like that and I just didn’t see it.’
                   ‘So,’ wondered Mrs Elm, looking at Nora. ‘What are you feeling?’
                   ‘Like   I   still   want   to   die.   I   have   wanted   to   die   for   quite   a   while.   I   have
                carefully  calculated  that  the  pain  of  me  living  as  the  bloody  disaster  that  is

                myself  is  greater  than  the  pain  anyone  else  will  feel  if  I  were  to  die.  In  fact,
                I’m  sure  it  would  be  a  relief.  I’m  not  useful  to  anyone.  I  was  bad  at  work.  I
                have   disappointed     ever yone.   I   am   a   waste   of   a   carbon   footprint,   to   be
                honest.  I  hurt  people.  I  have  no  one  le.  Not  even  poor  old  Volts,  who  died

                because I couldn’t look aer a cat properly. I want to die. My life  is a disaster.
                And I want it to end. I am not cut out for living. And there is no point going
                through  all  this.  Because  I  am  clearly  destined  to  be  unhappy  in  other  lives
                too. at is just me. I add nothing. I am wallowing in self-pity. I want to die.’

                   Mrs Elm studied Nora hard, as if reading a passage in a book she  had read
                before  but  had  just  found  it  contained  a  new  meaning.  ‘Want,’  she  told  her,
                in  a  measured  tone,  ‘is  an  interesting  word.  It  means  lack.  Somet imes  if  we
                fill   that   lack   with   something   else   the   original   want   disappears   entirely.

                Maybe  you  have  a  lack  problem  rather  than  a  want  problem.  Maybe  there  is
                a life that you really want to live.’
                   ‘I thought that was it. e one with Dan. But it wasn’t.’
                   ‘No,   it   wasn’t.   But   that   is   just   one   of   your   possible   lives.   And   one   into

                infinity is a ver y small fraction indeed.’
                   ‘Ever y   possible   life   I   could   live   has   me   in   it.   So,   it’s   not   really   ever y
                possible  life.’  Mrs  Elm  wasn’t  listening.  ‘Now,  tell  me,  where  do  you  want  to
                go now?’

                   ‘Nowhere, please.’
                   ‘Do you need another look at e Book of Regrets?’
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