I Was Tired Of Admiring Your Legs

My Life Sucks When I’m Only Half-aware Of It. If I Quit Drinking And Saw What It’s Really Like, I’d Probably Jump Off A Bridge.

Cooking Isn’t Taught,” Patch Said. “it’s Inherent. Either You’ve Got It Or You Don’t. Like Chemistry. You Think You’re Ready For Chemistry?” I Pressed The Knife Down Through The Tomato; It Split In Two, Each Half Rocking Gently On The Cutting Board. “you Tell Me. Am I Ready For Chemistry?” Patch Made A Deep Sound I Couldn’t Decipher And Grinned.

You Laugh, But You Haven't Seen Me In A Tux. Or Maybe You Don't Like Broad-shouldered Guys With Muscular Chest And Washboard Abs?

You Can Call Me Patch. No Really. Call Me.

You're Mine, Angel, And Don't You Forget It. Your Fights Are My Fights. What If Something Bad Had Happened Today? It Was Bad Enough When I Thought Your Ghost Was Haunting Me; I Don't Think I Can Handle The Real Thing.