Jeffrey Condran

A few days after our anniversary, my husband called to tell me that he’d had a dream where all the hair on his body – beard and mustache, eyebrows, the hair from his chest, his groin, his legs – had mysteriously fallen away. He lived in Pittsburgh now, with his mother, which is where he’d retreated after I’d kicked him out eight months ago. I hadn’t seen or spoken to him since our daughter’s birthday in March, and for all I knew he might actually have shaved away all of his hair just like a boy I’d dated in high school who was on the swim team…

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