Michael chuckled at the sight of his old palettes of makeup that he used to decorate his face like a clown’s…what felt like a lifetime ago now. Micheal looked in the full-size mirror in the attic and pictured himself in his bulky clown attire, his curly, bright colored wig, and a smooth, pasty white face that was now marked with wrinkles similar to a road map.

Michael continued rummaging through their old duffle bag, inhaled a waft of dust and cleared his throat. He pulled out a large, clear bag, held it in front of his face and stared at the contents perplexed. Michael was looking at a wad of milk chocolate hairs, whispy and faded. Suddenly it donned on him what he was looking at: the hairs of his first true love, a token of remembrance after he had lost his virginity under the hot sun in Jupiter, Florida. It was a bag of hairs plucked off the face of the bearded lady.