“I drove 30 miles to buy some breath mints before I realized I had some already in my pocket. Then it took me another 30 minutes to figure out they weren’t breath mints at all—they were aspirins.”
“My head is pounding. I wish the mints were aspirin.”
“Lately I’d begun carrying pain amulets in my bag, like some people have breath mints.”
“Ugh, my friend, you really need a breath mint,” I told him, sending a pulse of glamour into the brambly monster above me. “Let’s see what we can do about that doggie breath.”
“I remembered twenty. I'd known everything at twenty. It took me another year to realize I knew nothing. I was still hoping to learn something before I hit thirty, but I wasn't holding my breath.”
“It took me a sleeve of Girl Scout Thin Mints and forty minutes to get over that boy.”