He came for a haircut. The barber raised the scissors like a matador gouging a bull and hacked the last crop of hair, then flicked the tale brush over his collar. His flecks of hair squirmed over the floor. The barber then moved near him in the chair, holding the mirror this way and that. He imagined the barber’s wife who was also his lover accusing in the reflection. With a flourish, the barber ripped the smock from his muscular ridges, and in the sudden stillness he understood in the barber’s performance he had been given, avoided, refused and accepted.
Kim Favors
29/10/2021 08:23:11 pm
Well done. Reminds me of "Lather And Nothing Else," translated from Hernando Tellez's story in Spanish, "Espuma y Nada Más."
Cindy Patrick
29/10/2021 10:53:55 pm
I enjoyed this - it painted quite the picture in my mind.
Sue Clayton
30/10/2021 03:37:53 am
I think he should have gone to another scissor wielding barber, not his lover's husband's barber shop. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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