“I met a man with no forehead and receding eyebrows. He had ketchup crusted on his eyelids. I can't remember what we talked about, I just remember him smelling like chicken feed.”

“Trev, remember when I told you about the one thing I missed from my life before I met you?” Kegan dropped his forearms onto his bent knees, leaned his forehead on them. “You just met her.”

“He had this domineering way about him that totally ketchuped my tater tots—it was like he knew what I wanted more than I did.”

“And I remember when I met him, it was so clear that he was the only one for me. We both knew it, right away. And as the years went on, things got more difficult – we were faced with more challenges. I begged him to stay. Try to remember what we had at the beginning. He was charismatic, magnetic, electric and everybody knew it. When he walked in every woman’s head turned, everyone stood up to talk to him. He was like this hybrid, this mix of a man who couldn’t contain himself. I always got the sense that he became torn between being a good person and missing out on all of the opportunities that life could offer a man as magnificent as him. And in that way, I understood him and I loved him. I loved him, I loved him, I loved him. And I still love him. I love him.”

“I still remember "the mighty Cros" visiting the ranch in his van. That van was a rolling laboratory that made Jack Casady's briefcase look like chicken feed. Forget I said that! Was my mic on?”

“His fingers curled around her neck and he put his forehead to hers before sharing, “I remember, Rocky. I remember everything. I remember every… fucking… thing.”