"
Peter eyed the stranger. "I don't know."
The man placed his large, tanned and weathered hand on the back
of the vacant chair beside Peter. "Okay if I join you?"
"Sure," Peter said, leaning back in his own chair.
The man removed his cap and signaled the waitress. He fixed his
gaze on Peter for an instant. "Congratulations on the new
product," he said with a wink. He unfolded his own newspaper and
laid it over Peter's copy. "Your whiskers threw me for a second
or two, but I used to slack off now and then on the shave -
though not because I was masquerading."
"It wasn't my product introduction," Peter said, stroking his
light beard unconsciously.
The man pulled a pen from his pocket, then lifted his thumb and
winked one eye shut like an artist gauging his subject. "Hold
still. I want to get this right." He proceeded to draw a mustache
and beard on Peter's picture in the newspaper.
Peter was beginning to feel amused.
"Well," said the old man, taking up their conversation without
looking up from his artwork, "you weren't there for the show, but
it is your product just the same. Good work, son."
"Thanks."
The waitress arrived. His portrait completed, the man shoved the
paper across the table for the waitress to see. "What do you
think? Look like him?"
She looked at the photo and smiled politely, unaware that it was
really Peter in person and in the newspaper.
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