You'll go to McDonald's and see me behind the counter, read my name tag, and think my name is Daniel. Everyone's name is Daniel and we all slide frozen blood patties across popping griddles, but don't be confused. I am no more Daniel than the shred of toilet paper shoved into my co-worker's ear lobe to prevent bleeding.
Health hazards are all the rage in lawsuit America.
I am the finite emotion between gasps of a detective's cigarette. Loneliness. Regret. That's what Daniel means to you now. You'll never see a name tag the same.
Gender:
Points: 1626
Reviews: 745