His name is Cribby. He's 27 years old. He believes in taking care of himself with a balanced diet and a rigorous exercise routine. In the morning, if his face is a little puffy, he'll put on an ice pack while doing stomach crunches. He can do a thousand now. After he removes the ice pack he uses a deep pore cleanser lotion. In the shower he uses a water activated gel cleanser, then a honey almond body scrub, and on the face an exfoliating gel scrub. Then he applies an herb-mint facial masque which he leaves on for 10 minutes while he prepares the rest of his routine. He always uses an after shave lotion with little or no alcohol, because alcohol dries your face out and makes you look older. Then moisturizer, then an anti-aging eye balm followed by a final moisturizing protective lotion. There is an idea of a Cribby. Some kind of abstraction. But there is no real Cribby. Only an entity. Something illusory. And though he can hide his cold gaze, and you can shake his hand and feel flesh gripping yours, and maybe you can even sense your lifestyles are probably comparable, he simply is not there.