We had finally jettisoned any pretense of high culture and happily wallowed in trash TV.

Sam had finally become comfortable in his own skin just before it began to sag.

He filled his days to keep the devil at bay.

With each passing day and death her past seemed to be less and less real.

Civility had been choked out years before along with bipartisanship, and democracy wasn't far behind.

The victims who had become the killers were once again the victims.

He vacillated between self promotion and self destruction.

The desert finally reclaimed the tiny town it had battered year after year.

Out of step with the world around her it would take society decades to catch up by which time Esmeralda was long dead.

The sun warmed his face but the news still chilled his soul.

The Great Experiment was over.

She burned down the bridge before she managed to cross it.

The sun shimmered across the water while the beachgoers focused on their phones.

They chased their lost youth along with a dwindling dignity.

Eventually they stopped bothering to deny the lies.

The littlest of friendly gestures—a kind word, a smile from a stranger—would rekindle, albeit it briefly, his faith in humanity.

With blinders big enough to block out half the world we grew fat on cheap filler and clomped ever forward towards the slaughterhouse.

The depression ate at her soul like salt thrown on a slug.

"Nobody actually wants freedom, unless it's the freedom to choose which soda to drink," the dictator confided.

The truth still managed to bubble up to the surface from time to time.

There wasn't enough money and power in the world to satisfy his appetites.

I was beginning to see the light just as it winked out for the last time.

"I'm not angry, I'm just from New York," was Jake's typical response when accused of being irate.

The end was nigh but no one seemed to care.

By then our status symbols had become potable water and canned goods since you couldn't drink a Gucci handbag or fill your belly with a BMW roadster.

I began to suspect that I was like a commuter stuck in traffic who fails to realize they're actually sitting in a parking lot.

The progress of man had always been a lie.

The monsters were of our own making.

Everything worked just fine until it didn't.

He was just arrogant enough to believe he would be remembered by history after his death.