Snitch

Simon dipped his head and peered out of his window, looking upwards to the purplish black clouds creeping over the town, puffing ready for a downpour.

Business was slow today.

He hummed, turning around and pacing to a corner of his shop. He picked a broom and a dust dustpan, proceeding to sweep up the pristine tiles, scarcely dirtied with hair that day.

The barber looked up with a jerk when the transparent door of his Barber's shop opened, merrily jingling the bell above the door.

The person at the door, a young-looking lady in a dark, knee-length dress and black converse, tightly gripping a purse in her hands. Her sharp, piercing yellow eyes wandered the shop before settling on the barber, standing there with her brow creased and wondering if she should step out-

"We're open," Simon blurted out, rushing to drop the broom and dustpan in the corner he retrieved it from and setting up the chair, shifting it a little and gesturing to it with a smile. "Please, come in."

"Oh," the woman mumbled, scratching an eyebrow with neatly manicured fingers. Simon's sharp eyes sighted dark circles under her eyes, resembling scars of several sleepless nights and restless days. "Yeah, ok. Thanks."

She closed the see-through door gently and plodded to the chair, smoothing down the back of her short dress and taking a seat on the chair. Simon turned the chair to face the mirror, stepping on a pedal a few times to bring her a bit higher; she wasn't a very small woman, probably around five foot six inches, though adjusting the height of the chair for optimal service was a habit of Simon's.

He tied an apron over his torso, draping a large cloth over hers, securing it by tying the strings around her neck.

"A little off the sides, please. And touch up the carving, if that's ok."

"Sure." Simon undid her dreadlocks from the ponytail, letting it tumble over the back of the chair. The sides of her hair were fuzzy with short reddish-black hair, and the overall carving of her hair seemed to have not been touched for some weeks, making it look messy the moment her hair was undone.

Simon reached around and picked up a wireless clipper, flicking on the switch and pursing his lips to the side at the assuring buzz as it turned on.

His head jumped up, catching her pointed stare from her reflection. He asked her, "Do you want me to turn on some music?"

"...No."

He shrugged. "Alright." He was about to touch the clipper to her hair before she jerked her head away.

"Is it sterilized?"

"Yup."

"Can you...?"

The barber smiled easily, nodding his head. "No problem."

"I'm sorry for the trouble." She shifted uncomfortably on the chair, arranging the cloth tied around her neck and cascading down to her knees.

"No, no, it's fine. Really. There hasn't been much foot traffic in the shop today, so I more or less scrubbed the place down." He dropped some oil on the blade of the clipper and grabbed a lighter, running the flame underneath the blade. He turned the clipper this way and that, making sure to burn away any nonexistent hair and bacteria from the blades. He dusted the clipper with a brush and paused, wordlessly looking at the lady the clipper was sterile enough. She bobbed her head and he smiled, leaning down a little to get started with her haircut. As he worked, he asked, "So...how's your day going?"

She chewed on her tongue for a moment, letting the barber tilt her head to the right as he steadily ran the clipper across the side of her head, lowering the messy lowcut. She spoke up in a small voice, "I buried a good friend today."