David Sweet stands under the spray, razor gliding over his jaw as steam fogs the mirror behind him, his muscles rippling under the water’s relentless pressure. He grips the handheld shower head with one hand, soap suds clinging to his chest as he angles the blade just right, the blade catching the light. The towel draped over his shoulder shifts with each move, his dark hair slick against his neck, the tiles behind him reflecting the glow of the overhead light.
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