A Portrait of a Boy With a Portrait of a Girl

He lived alone with his parents, two older brothers, baby sister and a dog. He also had two hamsters, best friend, and a fort.
He was 5. Or maybe a little older, maybe somewhere between 5 and a half and thirty.
He liked two types of people; everybody and nobody.
More than anything in the world he loved his secrets. That’s why he became a dentist. He wanted to be a Robespierre when he grew up, but that was a secret. And he loved his secrets.
He also loved a girl. He drew her when he was 7. She had long hair, two eyes, no nose, and lips. She had no boobs either. It was a portrait. Later, he wished he didn’t take so much space on the paper drawing her big face.
Some nights he would look at the portrait and think to himself: -”How ridiculous, she does not have a nose. What was I thinking? Everyone has a nose. Two ears, two eyes, and 32 perfectly placed teeth.” We only have 20 when we are young, he though, they are white pretty teeth, soft and sensitive, and they don’t last that long. Completely useless.
That’s how he spent his time. He entertained himself with deeply philosophical view at his work, and a portrait of girl without a nose, or even boobs. He, too, considered it useless.
He’ve met a lot women that looked exactly like the portrait. His assistant, in fact, looked alike, but not quite. She did have a nose, and a big one.
He could have flushed the portrait into the toilet, after all – but he loved his secrets. He cherished and nurtured them more then anything. More than himself.
He, secretly, was a noble man. The only thing that could have gave him away were his lips that uncontrollably drew into a smirk when people noticed nice things about him. That was no bother, however, as he was not aware of that betrayal act his lips played on him.