The man looked expectantly in the mirror. He leaned closer and rubbed the glass with his sleeve. Then stood back.

If he were someone else, he might notice thinning grey hair, ruddy cheeks, beak-like nose and an overly large forehead. And eyes that didn’t quite register.

Instead, he yelled, “Audrey, where’s my neck?”

He stuck a finger under this collar and pushed it around. His face reddened.

Audrey drew up behind him. Her gentle eyes showed concern but pursed lips indicated a history of Bertram’s discovery.

“It’s right here, under your bow tie.” She sighed. “Where it always is.”




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