He was the type of guy you couldn't trust with a $5 but you could with a $50. A $50 felt strange and too precious to squander.

I was before her in all ways, except the ones that mattered.

He was the sound that the lonely electric six string's amp makes as it bounces of the wall of an empty studio apartment.

The mask broke and scrapped hard against his face from the force of the blow. George suddenly began reconsidering his vigilante hobby.

"I am not asleep," he says with anger trailing into a sad question. The type of strange outburst that demands new puncation to be invented

She opened the cupboard, and for a moment she could see a day into future. She would have cornflakes for breakfast then too.

Despite his volunteer status, they called Phillip the "fireman" becuase he caught himself on fire every other time he got drunk.

I lumber through the dark as a drunken ogre, begging my villagers and their pitchforks to come save me from my wrath.

"I swear this where we buried her." "You're not sure?!" "Hey, you can start judging me when you bury a body in the desert in the dark!"

"I swear this where we buried her." "You're not sure?!" "Hey, you can start judging me when you bury a body in the desert in the dark!"

The echo comes flying back from across the room. My isolation is completed. I have seen the end before and this is the beginning.

She was the moment he had be waiting for. She filled it effortlessly and completely. And he watched it pass with her retreat.

In his 11th life, Greg was reincarnated as a model train with limited mobilty and a badly painted conductor. He thought it fitting.

He took a belt of Jack at the completion of the paper clip fort. Finally he could sleep without fear of the earwig plots against him.

Behind bars they waited for the sun to return from the far side of the world, bringing with it their dignity & freedom, stolen by tequila.