Black stubble rained onto the white porcelain. Each stroke of the razor made the speckles more dense and some tumbled to the linoleum. He watched smooth skin emerge and his transformation from his carefree vacation self into the work slave. This was the face that won promotions and headed board meetings, but he longed to hide behind the half-grown beard. He ran his hand over his naked chin and yearned for the day he could put away his razor for good.

By frankjohn, October 30, 2014.

Nate begins to shave. He lathers his throat, meaning only to trim around the edges of his beard, free his neck and the underside of his jaw of bristles; but he finds the razor moving upwards, circling the edges of his beard like a lawnmower circling a lawn. He's shaved his beard half off before he knows that it's his intention to destroy it. From behind the coarse dark hair his face emerges, the face he hasn't seen in five years, pallid, blood speckled, dismayed at this exposure. His hands have decided it's time for him to be someone else.

By hiccup, April 20, 2012.

Found in Life Before Man, authored by Margaret Atwood.