Wearing only a thin bathrobe that revealed a triangle of his gray-haired chest and black socks, he looked like an old man. He had jowls, leathery wrinkled skin, age spots, and liver spots—Esme didn’t know how to distinguish the two—and small white spots where he seemed to have lost pigment altogether. He had to pull taut his loose neck skin to get a clean shave. His ankles were more delicate than she’d imagined a man’s could be, much less someone who’d perhaps killed people, professionally. His little dog was sitting on the bath mat at his heels. She’d planned on barging in and making demands. But he noticed her standing there and stopped shaving. He tapped his razor in the lip of the sudsy sink. Half his face foamed, he asked, “What can I do for you?” Because he owed her, was this how he’d have to address her from now on? He put his hands on his hips, his stance wide like a cop’s, but then he slouched. He was tired. Her mother had loved this man. Maybe her mother still did.
What do You think about All Of Us And Everything (2015)?
