She tells me our tip percentage is all about our mindset, even though people don’t tip well at brunch.
Had we been diverse enough? Had we changed hearts, minds, and souls? Had we been . . . truthful?
“Something in the hole grabs back. Something that doesn’t give up. Something with fingers and nails just like mine.”
Back then I genuinely believed that every next man was the last one.
He’d seen himself as something different then: greater than he was, more worthy of acclaim.
Our relationship might crack as we build two babies, but turtles don’t rush.
The Green Man dreams that one day he will throw away the flag and depart for home in a bug-free rocket ship. But not before the children grow up, walk instead of fly.
Her family had no wings, only legs that could traverse blocks at street level, where no one was allowed since the Sickness.
Some just want a lick of fame, prostrate at my feet with their sweaty headshots, as if I am the one to save them.