At a rest stop off the desert highway, Denver took out a sanitized straight razor. The man in the expensive suit was snoring. The

sun

shining into his eyes as he drove had put him to sleep in the dead of day. The man refused to wear any of the sunglasses in the car. Said none of them were expensive enough for him. Instead he squinted out into the vast red orange terrain.

As he wiped the alcohol off the blade, Denver's lips wetted. He thought of his old days. When he'd drink 

beer

and 

gin

every day. He was unable to do that anymore. He had a tenth of a 

liver

. The good thing about rubbing alcohol was that it brought back these good memories without tempting him to drink any of it.

A few more steps. Denver was just a few steps away. If he wanted to he could leap and be at the man in the expensive suit's feet in one go. In his younger days Denver would leap and jump out of blue. For the fun of it. These days he could throw out his back. He had to move carefully.

The expensive leather shoes were parched up on to the other chair that the man in the expensive suit was now using as a footrest. Denver walked past him, and over to Marc Love.

Are you ready for your shave?

Marc smiled. Love now went completely bald. He got a straight razor shave twice a day. One by himself. Once by Denver. He enjoyed the clean shaven look. It made him realize how big a person's head was. He remembered being a kid drawing people's faces. Thinking that the forehead was the top of someone's head. But it wasn't. There was an entire compartment housing that thing called a 

brain

.

People's hair tricked you into thinking that that part of the head wasn't there. But going completely smooth. That revealed the entire dome. He liked it.