Barber Chair

I was sweeping up around the chair when she rushed in.

"You still open?"

I glanced at the clock.

"If it's a quick job, maybe."

"Oh yeah, just a shave."

"Sure, ok."

I expected her to call her boyfriend in, or lead a child in. Instead she stepped in and sat down in the chair. I paused.

"You want your face shaved, Miss?"

She shook her head.

"No, get rid of this hair."

I knew that sudden, dramatic hair changes like this were often a sign of deep mental stress.

But I'm just a barber, so I shaved her head.