Illustrated by Kelly Opalko
He would always come into the coffee shop at 12:34pm. He ordered a black coffee, sat in the same corner and mumbled to himself. I always wondered why his beard was so long and scraggly. My guess is that it was for holding secrets. Not just the secret of "I don't have a chin," either. I believe that he was a siphon. A pinch in the fabric where stuff leaked through. The secrets of the inky black nothing that we know is there but try to forget about. I think it bubbled up from the depths and out of his mouth straight into his beard. My coworkers told me continuously to "Shut the fuck up about it." I had to know though. When I asked he just said, "It's a depression beard, man." So, I was right.