What we interpret as entropy is only our preference for one state of matter over another.
'What are you afraid of?' Carla asked. 'You can’t get hurt on your wedding day.'
On our stoop, luck clears its throat like a Mormon missionary and walks away.
Sol’s divorce isn’t final, but at this moment, he knows he wants this hot, hod-carrying girl.
Everywhere I went, the hatch on the top of my head was flapping open and my spirit was joyriding.
