"These things have built three houses, raised four kids, and fixed more broken engines than you've ever seen," she said, leaning in. "They’re skanky, they’re beat up, and they’ve earned every single line. Can your soft little thumbs say the same?"

Madeline just laughed, a rich, booming sound that cut through the bar's ambient noise. She held both of her thumbs up in front of his face, wiggling them playfully.

Madeline used that left thumb as a blunt instrument of truth. She used it to: