Thousand: Nine Hundred Thirty-Two

had a face before. Of all the parts that make me up, across billions of alternate planes, has there never been a face? Two eyes, a nose, a mouth? Does it matter? Let me enjoy this one. I like to smile. I like to scowl. I blow out the lips, I suck them in. I like rolling these eyes, flaring these nostrils, raising these eyebrows. The angel tickles my nose with a pink feather and I sneeze. The angel scratches my chin and I purr. The angel pinches my cheek. Ow! The pinch tightens. My brow draws in, my teeth