“I had a boy tell me once my nipples were like bowls of Wheaties,” Audrey said. “When?” Tommy said. “No.” “That’s a simile. Similes are a crock. There’s no more time for similes. There used to be that kind of time, but no more. You shouldn’t see what you’re seeing thinking it looks like something else. They haven’t left us with much but the things that are left should be seen as they are.”
