![]() ![]() ![]() He has a scar on his chin, which I only notice because his cheeks and chin are decorated in what I’d guess to be a couple of days’ worth of stubble, and a pale, hairless line is evident. His nose is slightly crooked, as if it’s been broken and not set properly his lips are full and ridiculously kissable. His eyes are the color of snow on a moonless winter night, a murky kind of gray that shifts and changes like shadows. His dark hair is covered by a backward baseball cap, the ends curling around his ears and the snapback. He’s a seven-course meal, including the decadent dessert. ![]() From the back he’s incredible to look at, but from the front-he’s just. “What the shit?” The man unfurls from his crouched position, rising to his full and very intimidating height. The loud noise ceases, and both the board and the saw clatter to the floor. I shriek when it whirs to life and I realize belatedly that it’s a saw. ![]()
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