That was beautifully distasteful,” he says. “I can’t believe I said that.” “No, it’s good. Now we’ve established we have the same sense of humor.

Her eyes are huge and humid.

She is still learning how wars keep score.

It’s possible I deserve something. Or that he messed up karmically in some past life and somehow I’m really the best he deserves. I’ll take it, is what I’m saying.

My eyes are darting to all the places my magazines are hidden. I feel like an idiot sometimes for having printed evidence. My friends look at stuff on their phones like it’s their job. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve looked, and there’s some alright stuff online, but I prefer the magazines. I guess I’m a retro sort of man. Call me classy.

You know I’m sitting right here,” I say. “She must really like you,” Maura says. Why do people have friends, whose idea were friends.

My life is just something that happened to me.

We’re not holiday people. We’re barely everyday people.

There’s a big difference between hating someone in peace and hating someone during war.

It’s like I’ve stepped into some alternate dimension where people talk about things.