Your vengeance is more like Hollywood vengeance, and that means you will make a mistake, because I’m the good guy, and you have awful makeup.

I used to believe in risk. In the immensity of the reward that lay on the other side of fear. Then I got hit by a car. I never got her name.

The pour went awry and her lap was covered in red wine. I apologized, and wrote the date off. I should slap you, she smirked. I didn’t mind.

A bird pooped on me and my neighbor felt bad and I asked how bad and she said, This fence is a border, and then the bird pooped on me again.

The road stretched before us. We watched the sun kiss the horizon. I can’t find your sunglasses, she said. That’s the last thing I remember.