From Herta Muller's The Appointment

Quick as a handful of flour hitting a windowpane, the bathroom light cast a face into the mirror, a face with froggy creases over its eyes which looked like me.  I held my hands in the water, it felt warm; on my face it felt cold.  Brushing my teeth, I look up and see toothpaste come frothing out of my eyes--it's not the first time I've had this happen.  I feel nauseous, I spit out what's in my mouth and stop.  Ever since my first summons, I've begun to distinguish between life and fortune.  When I go in for questioning, I have no choice but to leave my good fortune at home.  I leave it in Paul's face, around his eyes, his mouth, amid his stubble.  If it could be seen, you'd see it on his face like a transparent glaze.  (p. 15)