( pause . he had expected the conversation to be over by now . to someone like him people were just something to pass on the street . nothing close to something meaningful . )
(ryland grace is as memorable as a times square billboard when everyone's heads are buried in their phones. he flinches——his sore,overly tampered-with nose squashed against the heel of his palm.) 's that your car parked outside? 's 𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑒.
( when he turns around to the aforementioned car. he’s met with his chevrolet. and he can’t help but break a smile . something akin to pride and subtle bashfulness . )