Metaphor is awkward, but emotion, by its nature, leaves you no more scalable approach.

Claude rubs the back of his neck and wrinkles his nose, about to tell me he was never sad. I believe this is called bravado and is not limited to lawyers, or even men, although that combination makes it almost unavoidable.

If I could keep a single moment for all time, that would be the one. I became the very air; I was full of stars.

I was drawn to his aloofness, the way cats gravitate toward people who’d rather avoid them.

And I realized a wondrous truth: that knowledge could be our treasure, that there were things humankind knew that we did not, that our conquest need not comprise taking and killing, but could consist of our mutual conquest of ignorance and distrust.

Was it probably true that reasoning beings were equal? It seemed more like a belief than a fact, even if I agreed with it. If you followed logic all the way back to its origin, did you inevitably end up at point of illogic, an article of faith?

My own survival required me to counterbalance interesting with invisible.