This one from abecedarius surprised me, simply: “beards.”

I woke up with one clear thought: pain. My face hurt; my lips were being pulled back from my teeth in a jack o’ lantern sneer. Opening one eye, I reached up to my lips and felt tiny hands.

“Hey, asshole,” someone very far away said. “Where’s the fridge in this place?”

My feet smacked bare tile of the bathroom floor before I realized that I was out of bed. The clock radio flipped on; agitated yet polished voices collided into one another. I didn’t want to look in the mirror.

The head and torso of a small angry man protruded from my beard. He seemed to be flipping my reflection off with fingers too small to see.

The radio announcer said a word that sounded like “pandemic”.

“Beer? Hello? Do you even talk? Did I get a mute one? Well, that’s just great.” The creature put his hands on his hips and huffed.

I had thrown away my razor years ago.

[Want to help me bust through my writer’s block this month? Read about this exercise!]

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.