Tuesday, January 18, 2011
He was a tomato, she was an iceberg. Their love was doomed from the start. He was red hot, she was cold as ice. Crossing a sea of asphalt, mere inches apart, yet those inches may as well have been miles. DAMN that sous chef and his lousy aim. Damn the cold, cruel world that made them yearn for what they could never possess. He should have listened more closely to his Mother when she said find a nice HEAD of iceberg and fall in love. But he was never good at following directions. His skin was too thick for it to sink in.