The Weight of Falling Strands
Electric clippers buzzed against the girl’s scalp, shearing away long dark locks that tumbled onto the black cape draped over her shoulders.
She sat upright in the raised leather chair, gripping the armrests while her knuckles turned pale against the metal.
A few feet behind her stood an elderly man in a faded plaid shirt and dark cardigan, his fingers pressed against his trembling mouth.
Water welled in the corners of his eyes and spilled down the creases of his cheeks as the clippers carved another clean path across the crown of her head.
The young girl forced her lips into a tight, trembling upward curve, trying to keep her chin lifted as dark hair gathered in heavy clumps across her lap.
Her brown eyes blinked rapidly, fighting to hold back the moisture gathering along her lower lashes.
With every slow pass of the humming machine, another section of hair fell away, revealing the pale skin beneath.
Her chest heaved once, twice, and then her composed expression broke into a jagged sob.
An Unforeseen Movement
She buried her face into both hands, her shoulders shuddering under the smooth nylon cape.
The barber switched off the vibrating tool, wiping small stray hairs from the metal teeth with the flick of his thumb.
He set the power switch back to the on position, the quiet hum filling the wood-paneled room once more.
Instead of reaching back down toward the child, he raised the running blades directly over his own head.
Without a word, he dragged the cutting edge straight down the middle of his thick, dark hair.
A wide pale stripe opened along his scalp as a clump of dark hair dropped across the shoulder of his brown leather apron.
The girl’s hands dropped from her cheeks, her red-rimmed eyes widening as she caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.
Her jaw parted in utter astonishment while he continued sweeping the clippers across his temples, working deliberately until every bit of his hair was gone.
The grandfather dropped his hand from his mouth, his wet eyes locked onto the barber’s smooth, newly shaved head.
Laughter Through Stained Cheeks
A sudden, bubbling sound escaped the little girl’s throat.
She pressed both palms over her mouth again, but this time her eyes crinkled at the edges, bright and clear beneath her tears.
The barber grinned down at her, wiping loose stubble from his forehead with the back of his wrist.
She threw her head back against the leather headrest, laughing out loud as she pointed toward the floor, where both piles of hair now mingled together.
Footsteps echoed against the patterned tile floor near the shop entryway.
Three other barbers emerged from the back hallway and stepped quietly around the raised chair.
Each of the three men sported smooth, freshly shaved heads beneath the warm overhead lighting.
They lined up alongside the vintage mirrors, broad smiles spreading across their bearded faces.
The little girl rotated her neck, taking in each bald head in turn before resting her eyes back on the barber who had held the clippers.
The grandfather wiped the dampness from his cheeks with his sleeve, resting his palms together in front of his chest and whispering quiet words of gratitude toward the group.
The barber rested one palm gently against the girl’s shoulder, smiling warmly as she beamed back up at the ring of shaved heads gathered around her chair.
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