I am not lonely, you are lonely. Shut up!!
I do not have cops in my pocket, Mr Jones, and while I might be a man who colours outside of the lines, the kind of clout, influence and willingness to take risks is not something I’m interested in.
“You’re here, Mr. Jones, because a woman in a red dress told you to be here. Because she cried in your office and then offered you a lot of money and sweet sorrowful lies. The same reason you do everything.”
There’s something you don’t know about nightmares.
“Never let it be said that the apocalypse wasn’t beautiful.”
Harry Washington, age 8 and a half, started to wonder what his mom’s hair would look like in zero gravity.
Josh put down his beer, distantly aware that it was somehow to blame for the conversation he was having.
Deep down I know it’s a lie. I’m just a bit ashamed to admit it sometimes.
“It comes to all of us,” he thought, “at one time or another.” He then put a cigarette in his mouth, and turned to start walking.
While his personality was kind and easy-going, the one prevailing opinion of him, was that he was different.