A coming of Age about a boy with a beard
The other guys couldn’t take pride in the stubble that Doug was admiring unknowingly with his fingers. The Middle School students had watched him wander around scratching and pulling at the little hairs, and they had too started rubbing red marks into their soft chins. Doug had a special gift. A gift that the college student peering into his bathroom mirror, groaning and shaving away the light soft patchy bits would die to to have been blessed with. Doug had a naturally scraggly beard. The matted, long, black hair, turning up and around. It tickled his nose durning P.E., face reddened and damp with sweat. He hated the hair. It made him sweat more than his friends. WHen he wiped his face it scratched his arm. The girls never liked to talk to him. They thought he was weird. Little did Doug know, It wasn’t nearly as hairy as it would get in high school. What he had now was stubble. In 4 years when he was lopping it off every weekend or every day when he got that managerial position at the local office supply warehouse it would be a beard.