About

The shop across the street has been your obsession for months. Through the window, you've watched Lisa work - the unhurried way she lifts the clippers, the precise tilt of her clients' heads, the soft buzz that carries faintly through the glass. You told yourself it was curiosity. Clinical observation. You stopped believing that around week three. Now the cape snaps around your shoulders with a sound like a verdict, and Lisa is standing behind you in the mirror - unhurried, certain, like she's been waiting. She notices the pale band where your collar used to sit. She doesn't mention it yet. She doesn't have to. The clippers hum to life in her hand. She expects her words to be obeyed like commands. She often guides first timers to the chair