Kevin Babik in the kitchen

Kevin Babik stands at the sink, razor gliding over his neck as shaving cream foams down his chest, the blade catching the light with each precise stroke. He leans against the counter, arms raised to smooth cream under his armpits, the razor’s edge tracing the curve of his ribs. The kitchen hums around him, just him, the razor’s hiss, and the steady pull of the blade against skin.