Most of the time I am changing. This way, in a professional setting, wearing a suit, shaking hands, and smiling. That way, writing on Saturday morning, frowning, one hand of fingers in my hair, forehead in my palm, and the other hand holding a cup of coffee, haggard, bags under my eyes, trying to get it out of my mind and onto the page. This way, for my girlfriend. That way, for my mother.

Except for my crooked jaw, which stays the same always. Because the doctor told me they’d have to basically saw off my teeth from the whole top half of my face, sawing right under my nose straight back to my ears, and then move my whole jaw two inches forward and drill it back into my face with screws that will be permanent and set off the metal detectors at the airport. And so I said, no that’s okay. My crooked jaw can stay the same.