F 8221 Is For Facial
He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, making faces and sticking his tongue out at himself. “I hate my face.” He said. He could hear her in the bedroom, putting away laundry from the sound of it. “I hate my face!” He said, louder this time so she would hear his complaint. She appeared in the doorway with an armload of towels. “What are you babbling about?” she asked. “My face. I hate it.” “Well, I like it.” She pushed past...