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Kindle Notes & Highlights
He is gasoline poured into Evander’s open mouth of flame, and the worst part is how he likes the taste.
Talk. Even if he has to reach down into his own lungs and pull each syllable out one by one. Words have always sat like dead moths and dried flowers in his mouth, unheard because no one is ever interested in what he has to say.
His cologne is a choking haze of something that is probably labeled Adonis Masculinity Dipped in Gold, and he is, overall, too much.
His lungs fill with dead leaves and the broken corners of sentences he can’t force out.
He is an autumn leaf, meant to be pressed between the pages of an old book and forgotten.
