| OCR Text |
Show 179 heel of your hand as you pulled the mask on over your head and fitted its chin around your own. The mouth was slit and was supposed to move when you spoke, but it rarely did because your chin in real life never dropped very far when you were talking, so when people heard your voice coming out of the face it always shook them up because the mouth didn't move. The heat inside the mask was unpleasant too; you felt trapped, and sweat ran into your ears. And you could never line up your own eyes with the eyeholes cut into the rubber. His companion, who had been bent over the steering wheel, suddenly leaned toward him and turned a rubber face up into his own, with watery blue eyes darting deep inside the rubber eyeholes, and he jolted awake. His right arm, which had been flung over his head, had dropped across his face, cold as clay from obstructed circulation. As it warmed, tingling to the armpit, he was spreading white frosting in little peaks and folds all over a birthday cake. The room was full of people telling him how to do it, and he tried to do everything they told him but in following conflicting suggestions he gouged the cake, dragging brown crumbs through the backswept folds. The crumbs made an interesting texture, however, and he wanted to look closely at the striations by making a complete and leisurely circuit around the cake; but he let up for the instant required to change hands and was suddenly whipped around a corner where he caught a glimpse of the back of a head that had just turned away from him, and saw blood spurt from its ears, and jolted awake. Before leaving to pick up Yvonne he washed his face and the back of his neck, and screwed a corner of the damp washcloth into either ear, where the trickle of sweat had dried and made him feel repulsive. * * * * * * |
