Before his first day on the job, he’d been told he’d have to cut off his long hair. Before his mom’s death, he’d begun growing it. It had been another way for him to cut off the intimacy with his mom during her illness.
When he got his new job, it’d been over three years since he’d got a cut. He remembered going to the hair stylist. He’d felt awkward and out of place. He’d never been to a place like this before.
“What kind of cut would you like?” she asked.
“Just cut it all off”, he said.
He sat in the cold white chair and the young blonde woman began snipping at his long locks as music blasted through the speakers. As his hair had fallen to the floor, he did everything he could to keep from thinking about memories of haircuts with his mom.
He had watched on in the mirror, as he was being transformed into his next stage, desperately holding back his tears.
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