“My eyes change color depending on my mood and what I’m wearing. If I’m wearing an acorn brown shirt, my eyes look like squirrel fur. And if I’m wearing no shirt at all, my eyes look more nude and flesh-colored. I guess my ex girlfriend, Zelda, said it best when her friend asked her what I look like and she said: “He looks like you’d imagine him to look like, if you had no imagination.”

“Some people say I look like my mom, while others say I look more like my dad. I guess it all depends on what I’m wearing.”

“I’m not my name. My name is something I wear, like a shirt. It gets worn. I outgrow it, I change it.”

“If I’m happy, my eyes are chestnut; if I’m surprised, my eyes are hazelnut; if I’m afraid, my eyes look like they just shit themselves; and if I’m crying, my eyes get lighter and greener, like an anorexic leprechaun.”

“Can you take off your shirt?”I couldn’t see Rachel clearly on the other side of my truck’s cab. My eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness of my secret make-out hideout. But I could hear herlaughing her ass off. “Not even for Sean.”“Well, we have to make it look good somehow. Do you mind if I take off mine? My dad says I look like sex on a stick with my shirt off.”“Knock yourself out.”I started to pull my shirt over my head. I was used to wearing T-shirts. When it wouldn’t give, I remembered I was wearing something Sean-like. As I unbuttoned it, Iasked, “Want to make a bet how long it takes him to get out here?”

“You should be wearing green," she said. "To match your eyes.""In case you never noticed, my eyes are gray.""Never mind that," she said, once again waving my words away. "That brown washes out your skin tone."Why was she so concerned about my clothing choices? That was completely unlike her. "I like to look washed out," I said dryly. "Otherwise people are intimidated by my glorious beauty.”