- There were days – years, even – when you were bitter and lost. You moved around a lot, small towns, big cities, trying to find the perfect place to disappear. Your hair got long and you spent a lot of time wondering when your life was supposed to start. You panhandled, you slept in places not meant for sleeping, and you woke up in places where most men went to die. You moved on.
- And what does this have to do with anything? You moved on, you went ahead, you followed your feet more than your heart and you ended up on the brink of holding up a liquor store. But you stopped yourself.
- It was a biting cold night and you were camped out in a park in Milwaukee, wondering if it could get any worse. You sat on a bench and watched the sky fill up with ribbons of winter colors.
- And then you saw your angels, silky tangled clouds that bore all the lightness you could handle. Your angels. You ended up tossing the handgun in a trash can.
- You never drank, give yourself that. Not even a taste of beer or swallow of wine. You wanted to puke if you even smelled the stuff.
Excerpt from Ordinary Handsome. Available at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P46ZPA0
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