Richard wrote a diary entry in his head.

Dear Diary, he began. On Friday I had a job, a fiancée, a home, and a life that made sense. (Well, as much as any life makes sense). Then I found an injured girl bleeding on the pavement, and I tried to be a Good Samaritan. Now I've got no fiancée, no home, no job, and I'm walking around a couple of hundred feet under the streets of London with the projected life expectancy of a suicidal fruitfly.

Neil Gaiman

Stichwörter: life-expectancy life-changing-events fruit-flies

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Drosophila,” I said, remembering the word.
“What?” Lily asked.
“Why do girls always fall for guys with the at ention span of drosophila?”
“What?”
“Fruit flies. Guys with the attention span of fruit flies.”
“Because they’re hot?”
“This,” I told her, “is not the time for being truthful.

Rachel Cohn

Stichwörter: truth boys attention fruit-flies time-for-truth

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