Friday - The Naked face of Death

Today on the drive into work, the sky was so hazy that the sun looked like a full moon as it tried to feebly shine it's way through the clouds. I could look right at it without hurting my eyes. This was a relief from the way it usually shines in my eyes and blinds me in the morning.

As I drove by The Ferris Wheel, I noticed the Carney with his back to me. Then, as I braked to a stop at the red light, he turned around to face me and my jaw dropped in astonishment.

The Angel of Death has shaved off his mustache.

I must have made a face, because he touched his upper lip self consciously and half smiled. He took out his cigarette and pursed his lips as he exhaled his smoke, kind of like a kiss.

I was about to roll down my window and shout at him to grow it back when the light changed and I had to drive off before the other drivers started to honk at me. It's just as well. I have avoided having an actual conversation with death for years now, and it's never a good day to start one.

His face now looks naked to me. I don't like it. Who wants to looks at Death's naked face?