I grew a beard for three weeks and then shaved it off. No one but Robyn commented on its existence or lack of existence, when that latter time had come. There had been beard, where previously there was not, and one day there was not where there had been. The whole experience left me only with questions.
Questions like, if a beard falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? How good a friend do you have to be to somebody to comment on their beard, and could it be that few people here feel they’ve met that standard of friendship with me? Could I, then, be doing more? If you leave the Easter candy your girlfriend’s mother sent you on top of the microwave for a few days, will you become radioactive if you eat it?
These are the questions that I ponder. As I glow quietly, in the silence of my kitchen.