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“Turning my right hand over, he notices the half-moon-shaped birthmark that no one never notices. "What's this?" he asks. "A pudding stain." He looks like he believes me. "Really?" "No. It's a birthmark." "You're like a painting," he says, "constantly revealing new things." I stare at Frank like he can't be serious, and he laughs and says, "What? It's true!" "The pickup handbook?" I ask. "You can't take everything in to for gospel, but it's amazingly instructive," he says, running his finger back and forth over the café au lait spot.” — Hannah Mccouch
Turning my right hand over, he notices the half-moon-shaped birthmark that no one never notices. "What's this?" he asks.
"A pudding stain."
He looks like he believes me. "Really?"
"No. It's a birthmark."
"You're like a painting," he says, "constantly revealing new things."
I stare at Frank like he can't be serious, and he laughs and says, "What? It's true!"
"The pickup handbook?" I ask.
"You can't take everything in to for gospel, but it's amazingly instructive," he says, running his finger back and forth over the café au lait spot.