Tom Smith, an ordinary name, fitting then for an ordinary man. That is what his life had constantly been, ordinary, he always wished for something interesting to happen, in his later years he soon realised that it had been a fatal mistake.
Tom looked into the mirror, peering at his own reflection, his eyes rolled over his rugged cheekbones, his coarse skin, and worst of all, his dark, ashen eyes. With precise concentration, he picked up a sharpened knife, and brought it up to his neck. He whittled away at his beard, taking utmost care not to cut himself; he recalled his doctors instructions:

‘You have to take care of yourself now that you can’t feel anything. You could get yourself into a real mess. I want you to take steps in order to overcome this. Try shaving with a blunt razor, you need to learn how to become more aware of the environment around you.’