My Lungs Sucked At Being Lungs.

To Be Human Is To Catch The Falling Person.

We Kiss. Her Hands Are Freezing On My Face, And She Tastes Like Coffee And The Smell Of The Onion Is Still Stuck In My Nose, And My Lips Are All Dry From The Endless Winter. And It's Awesome.

As A Child I Was An Inveterate Liar. As Opposed To Now, I Am A Novelist.

It Was Kind Of A Beautiful Day, Finally Real Summer In Indianapolis, Warm And Humid - The Kind Of Weather That Reminds You After A Long Winter That While The World Wasn't Built For Humans, We Were Built For The World.

The Colonel's Hand Was So Little, And I Grabbed It Tight, His Cold Seeping Into Me And My Warmth Into Him. 'i Memorized The Populations,' He Said.