My face has begun to exfoliate. It’s not the peeling of large pieces of skin that I imagine. Only tiny, dark color pin point dots of skin begin to rub off when I wash or touch my face. I begin the day with certainty that I won’t attend the night’s parties. My face is still inflamed and splotchy. I take the service elevator at my condo rather than run into people in the building. In the afternoon, I venture to the hair salon for the appointment I rescheduled from yesterday, hoping I’d present a… Continue