For all the water she sprayed on my finely combed hair, my ears had become unusually warm. Even crimson…no red. I felt strange sitting wrapped in a white plastic sheet. It was finally my moment of reckoning after good ten months or so. I saw her gearing up with the scissors now. An uneasy smile broke on my lips, as my eyes met hers in the mirror. ‘Don’t chop a lot of the length.’- I made a last minute plea…well almost. Swish, swash, swish…and the first long lock fell into my lap. For once, I reverently admired the strand that was mine…and something welled up in my throat. She was going about dexterously, feverishly with the scissors. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the huge light over me. Too late…too late...
The spell broke with the hot blast of the dryer on my face. Over and out. I looked hard in the mirror finally. Not bad. Interesting. Can I say…good? I was almost pleased.
And then, as I walked out, I saw those many strands lying abandoned on the floor. Poor souls. Brown and fine. I touched my hair…recalling their smell and their touch. Gone… :(
The spell broke with the hot blast of the dryer on my face. Over and out. I looked hard in the mirror finally. Not bad. Interesting. Can I say…good? I was almost pleased.
And then, as I walked out, I saw those many strands lying abandoned on the floor. Poor souls. Brown and fine. I touched my hair…recalling their smell and their touch. Gone… :(
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