and not a single fuck was given that day.
Tell the truth, I was getting kind of sick of him always talking about my fateful night.
I’d been sorry about it right away and had got sorrier about it ever since, and was now so sorry about it that him rubbing it in my face did not make me one bit sorrier, it just made me think of him as being kind of a dick.
George Saunders, Escape from Spiderhead