英文短篇故事（紐約）476 Whiskers Are for Plucking

She walked into the bedroom. Her husband was sitting at his desk. Two of his fingernails were pinching at his face. She said, "You're pulling out your whiskers again! You promised me you were going to stop doing that." He said, "Yes, I did promise you. And this is the last time, I swear. I won't pull any more hair out of my face. I'll use only my razor to remove my whiskers." She said, "You said that nine months ago. But nothing's changed. It's not like I'm asking you to quit drinking or smoking. All I'm asking you is this one little thing. And you refuse to do it. That shows me that you don't respect me." He said, "I do respect you. But this habit has got a hold of me. It won't let go of me." She said, "No, it's you who won't let go of it."