ViceGrip

Chapman awakes and raises his cold hands to rub his cheek and feels the thin beard that had accumulated like overcast over the three preceding days. Was I a different person when I shaved last? He pulls himself out of bed, and walks to his armoire where a package of half empty cigarettes lay. He lights one, finishes it quickly, extinguishes it, and pulls out another. He smokes and his countenance was a mixture of imperturbability and enervation.