A young woman who read no one but nasty old novelists in the twilight of their talent was quite assured, in reading such bilious and hateful fiction, of her own loathing and acidic wit, and therefore rather insulted when taken for an empathetic friend. What howled within her as fury against mankind came out as the undifferentiated politeness she found so repulsive in others. She termed this an essential flaw in misanthropy, even as the suitors, invitations and goodwill piled up around her, promising suffocation.Microfiction by Miles Klee. Jul 9, 2012
