“It was something like stirring concrete with my eyelashes.”
“I'm a bartender. I like recipes. They're concretes. Was the drink recipe for seduction one shot charm and two shots self-deception, shaken, not stirred?”
“It's like if you plant something in the concrete and if it grow and the rose petal got all kinda scratches and marks, you ain't gonna say "damn, look at all the scratches and marks on the rose that grew from the concrete.." you gonna be like "DAMN! a ROSE grew from the CONCRETE?”
“Something about history stirred him. He liked following in its footsteps.”
“I like watching water drops drip off my eyelashes. Reminds me that I’m not the Desert of Love.”
“But now and then, beneath the outer numbness, something stirred, like a living pain waiting for the anesthetic to wear away.”