Ms. M would love these. Considering she was teaching us in language that one time, to (if thats's the word) analogize.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.
Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.
The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
Speaking of Ms. M reminds me of our Literature drama exam results, which we got today. Awful. Just awful. It ruiened my whole grade! I was getting an A before and now.. Well I'm getting a B now, but I'd have LIKED an A. haye.
I. NEED. TO. START. STUDYING.