They split a six shrimp appetizer he made himself from a recipe he tore out of a magazine at the dermatologist.
Katherine gobbled it, complimented it, Stanley lied and acted like he made it all the time. Like he just whipped it up on the regular after he got home from softball on Thursdays, but no matter, the date he had salivated and ulcered over was starting well.
The dermatological treatment hadn’t worked-if anything Stanley thought he looked a little worse-, but he kept reminding himself she said yes to the date and it wasn’t because she needed the free meal.
He tried not to look in the mirror in the hallway when he brought out the first glass of wine, but he couldn’t help it.
The blemishes seemed animated, like the vortexed eyes of a cartoon cat struck on the head.
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