A beard on a whim

I awake to an unfamiliar pillow. I touch my face and it isn’t the face I remember. A stranger looks back at me from the mirror. The post-shower drying ceremony has an extra twist.

Yes, I’m growing a beard. Three whole weeks without shaving my chin – hair is now covering the lower part of my face. Well, more of a stubble really – certainly can’t call it a real beard yet, but the end of the prickly stage, it’s beginning to catch the wind and I am constantly reminded that there is something there.

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