One enters a Hellmouth like a snack but exits like a bullet.

184 miles on a full tank, snow on the ground, muddied as third act makeup, seventy miles an hour, headlight out, books at my side like wallflowers

Is this not a start? To define what is wanted from another, from oneself, one has to pretend to be the desired.

He never told her he was a banker, but it was easy enough to guess.