The Man

By Kalli Stone

The man walked past the glass window advertising souls and salons and manicures for the ones who really needed them. His reflection stared back at him, cigarette smoke sainting him with holy white. Dark eyes didn’t blink for a long time. Aztec-ruin cheekbones jutted and carved themselves down the landscape of his face. Dark hair dusted his cheeks and made him scratch. A girl glided behind the glass. He watched and lusted until she disappeared. He didn’t see his own face had changed. He turned and walked away a different man.