Tasha glared at himself in the mirror. His clever black curls had always pleased him (and others). His crooked and unsure smile had endeared him to many. His tatterdemalion ways had always earned him a place in people’s hearts.
“Please, focus,” Tasha begged himself. Remember the purpose. This is only a way of – -
From the corner of his eyes, he saw Sigourney rush to answer the door.
“Oh, Henry!” She cried, throwing her arms out to him. “I’m just starting on dinner.”
Henry was a slight man, with shocks of mousy brown hair. He spoke in short insignificant phrases: “Hello. You look truly remarkable. The weather is fantastic.”
Tasha sighed and closed the bathroom door.
“Is there someone here?” Henry frowned. “I’ve nabbed two more Communists. Are you proud of me?”
“Immensely,” Sigourney replied with a sad glance at the bathroom door. “Actually, Henry, why don’t we eat in town? I’m sure the diner isn’t too crowded.”
Henry stared at the same door as he answered. “That would be fine.”