The Irony-Free Years (2016-2021)

Haven’t bothered to decipher Travis Bickle tattoo, but have at it.

I passed my friend my phone. “He’s hot,” Alex  said, agreeably. 

My ribs turned cold. The pale, tall, tattooed man in the photo—black tank top, cigarette behind ear—was indeed lean. He had a steady downward gaze, self-satisfied, dark-haired, a young Denis Leary in an ex-con role. I looked at the picture again. He could, yes, have been hot, but I loathed him.