“Like snowflakes,” my parents said, “no two human faces are the same.”
When you first hear this you ask what about identical twins?
Now I ask who cares.
You see so many they all merge into one, an every-face; a buzzing mash of grease, sinew, eyeball and fat. You give up on voices, then faces. This is how they get you.
There’s a reason they’re called the heat. I feel them, can’t spot the faces.
They’ve got the spoon and dropper I dropped, but I get away on the subway.