Right after he left for good, his moustache returned. It sneaked in through the door, wobbled all the way up to the bedroom and laid down on their bed, its dark hairs spreading on his pillow.
Happy to have a piece of him, she let it stay. But when the moustache’s hairs grew, she grabbed the scissors again. The moustache hid under the bed, coming out after much coaxing, shaking, hurt; like him, before he left.
She reached out, asking for forgiveness, and laid down next to it. She got rid of all the scissors the next day.
Happy to have a piece of him, she let it stay. But when the moustache’s hairs grew, she grabbed the scissors again. The moustache hid under the bed, coming out after much coaxing, shaking, hurt; like him, before he left.
She reached out, asking for forgiveness, and laid down next to it. She got rid of all the scissors the next day.
