He looked even smaller in my living room than he had in the hallway. He wasn't quite as tall as I am in flat heels-- five feet four-- and he wore a cream-colored jacket that was too wide and too long for him, chocolate gabardine slacks, and brown-and-white buckskin shoes. He was perhaps twenty-five, and his face and head were too pointed for his stubbly crew cut, but his brown eyes were round and friendly. On his upper lip there was a faint little mustache-- the sort you'd draw with a burnt natch-- and it gave him a look of hopeful innocence.

-- from "Give a Sharp Leap" (1959)