“Why not me?” He looked at his face in the glass, put a big dab of lather on each cheek-bone. “It’s an honest face. It’s a face any woman would be safe with.”
“She’d never seen it.”
“She should have. All women should see it. It’s a face that ought to be thrown on every screen in the country. Every woman ought to be given a copy of this face as she leaves the altar. Mothers should tell their daughters about this face. My son” — he pointed the razor at me — “go west with this face and grow up with the country.”
He ducked down to the bowl, rinsed his face with cold water, put on some alcohol, and then looked at himself carefully in the glass, pulling down his long upper lip.
“My God!” he said, “isn’t it an awful face?”
Current Location: home
Current Mood: energetic
Current Music: mr. november - the national