Keeping the Wrinkle Cream Industry In Business

The other morning when Bryan brought me coffee in bed –

(yes, I said when, because that man brings me coffee in bed every morning)

– he handed me the cup then reached out and rubbed my forehead with his thumb.

“What are you doing?” I asked, still waking up.

“I’m wiping away your grouchy lines.”

“My what?”

“You look like you’re mad.”

“It’s 5:30 in the morning and there’s a light on in the room – I would call that squinting.”

“Well, you look mad.”

Now I’m paranoid about this ugly face I keep making and catch myself doing it all the time – driving into the sun, walking against the wind, thinking about what to say next, digging a hole to plant my tomatoes.

Even when I’m not thinking about it, my body expresses anger.

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