Her wrinkles were like slander. Her voice was akin to a beating with a stick.

“It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun.”

“Maybe everyone can live beyond what they're capable of.”

“Her face was severe but smiling. "What the hell did you do with my hairbrush, y…”

“It's hard to not like a man who not only notices the colors, but speaks them.”