The Shaving off of a Moustache
It had been on my mind all day. Maybe under the surface, for a while longer. Despite constant trimming, It was starting to look shabby to me. Unbecoming of me. This is odd because I’d previously liked all the traits that it had delivered unto me. Set me apart, English gent, suspected hispanic blood, etc. Even people taking the piss saying I looked like Clark Gable endowed me with a certain compliment.
