Winter ‘Stache

I have never experienced such weather. It was negative sixteen degrees Celsius. I bundled up the best I could and mounted my bike for the journey home. Then a miraculous thing happened. My mustache froze. It was the only part of me that wasn’t concealed. Through the chilling breeze and my stemming exhale, my mustache harbored ice of the face hair variety. Icicles formed below my nose growing toward my lip. Half way through the trip I could feel the upper lip stalactites covering my mouth. It was peculiar. The loss of feeling in my fingers and toes faded away to the mystery of Jack Frost pulling at my mustache. My legs kept pushing me along but my mind was consumed by how frozen water, my facial hair, and gravity¬†interacted. I stepped inside to examine the whimsical winter ‘stache. But, it had disappeared. It melted instantly, only to leave a wet upper lip upon a mesmerized man. I can’t say I am looking forward to the sequel but if it would happen again, I’ll be ready.

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