His hair had thinned to baby fineness and lay limply on the side and top of his head. Andrew dropped his head to his chest with a demeanor of utter dejection.
Andrew had subconsciously maintained the body image that he had had when he watched his reflection as his razor cut the stubble from his white-foamed chin that morning and hadn’t changed it since his metamorphosis. That image had been shattered with one look in the mirror in front of the baby bath. He would never be able to think of himself as a man again. He was only a filthy little baby who liked making messes in his diapers. Andrew wept silently, tears running down his face, as he considered his loss.