James McManus, USA
He lifted the trap from the drain of the tub. There were three kinds of hair in it -- armpit and leg stubble, fine auburn strands, darker and springier pubic hairs -- but the three distinct shades ran together, grayed by the soap and shampoo scum. Wendy's pits, Wendy's legs, Wendy's head, Wendy's pussy. Gingerly, wincing, using the tips of his index finger and thumb, he twisted the sopping gray nest from the trap and flicked it into the garbage pail, snapping his fingers to knock off the last clinging strands.
Excerpt from 46, a novella by James McManus in Western Humanities Review,
University of Utah, 1991, pp. 322-323