His eyes were bright, his cheeks were rosy, his nose gleamed, his hair that color his wife called “beautiful.” He wasn’t sure beautiful was what he’d been striving for, or what was most appropriate, but no one had ever called anything about him beautiful before and he was reluctant to give it up. “Take those compliments and keep them in your pocket,” his mother used to say. Terry had large pockets, but usually nothing in them other than a pig’s bladder or a rubber chicken. He knew he was in for a difficult day if he started it out with an unhappy thought. Wait. He leaned closer to the mirror. Of course. He’d gotten the mouth upside down. He’d painted his mouth as a big frown this morning rather than in his trademark delirious grin. Make sure they see you smiling, as his mother used to say. He really should redo the entire look. Even though the application of the frown had probably been some random mistake it had no doubt affected the painting in of the other features, the eyes especially.
