His Face

Pete’s face fell when he got the bad news. I saw it happen. I was there.

I was there.

His eyes widened and his mouth went slack.

His eyes glazed over and that’s when it happened. His face fell.

Although, fell is not the right word choice.

It slopped and slurgged.

It slid and fishtailed.

It made a sickening sound like oil being squirted into a dirty hinge as it dribbled down his chin and dripped to his throat.

I watched the spectacle in something greater than astonishment but something less than full out shock.

His face disappeared under his shirt’s collar and groaned a grievous, miserable groan.

That was quite the limit for me.

I swatted the back of his faceless head. “Okay, now you’re being needlessly melodramatic. Pull yourself together, man! It can’t be all that bad.”

He sniffled and his face slid back into its rightful place. All features were mercifully accounted for. “Your profound lack of sympathy disappoints me. I’m leaving now. Bye.”

I wanted to refute his ‘profound lack of sympathy’ statement, but he left before I could say a word.

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