...shame spreads through his body like a drop of red dye in water.

. . . a shrunken old man, squashed into the chair like a stubbed-out cigarette.

The pain wasn’t tidal. That was the lesson of the dream which was really a memory. The pain only appeared to come and go. The pain was like the piling, sometimes covered and sometimes visible, but always there.

It was darker than a carload of assholes.

Kristen is looking at me like I'm a plume of smoke in the kitchen, right before you yell fire!

Our house was like sleeping beauties palace after the enchanted spell is cast