rshort1202

I’m with Makayla? and Melissa, going to get a haircut. I think we’re scheduled one after the other. I think Melissa has just gone; I see her sitting in the chair in front of the mirror with shoulder length hair that looks lighter in color and volume. She is smiling a genuine smile. It is my turn now, but I’m not going to. I’m growing my hair out, so I don’t know why I’d erase all the progress I’ve made so far. I think they might trim my beard, but I know I can do that myself. There’s a sense of disappointment, like the haircut was mandatory, but I stick to my guns. I briefly see my hair in a mirror and feel it (it’s about the length it really is now).