After five years of living in Los Angeles, I learned to remind myself that when the sweeping, static landscape looked too serene, the plates would rub their bodies against each other to remind us how small we are.
I ran upstairs and turned on the shower. I wanted to feel clean for what was to come.
His light eyes were just faintly green but striking through a mop of honey-brown curls sprouting from his tanned brain-case. He was smiling, but not too much.