Don't Blink!

A Bad Haircut

"It's not the end of the world," I said as I walked out of my office with all my things compiled in a cardboard box. But as I watched the people passing by, everything sped up, everything became a swishing blur. I felt small, insignificant, like these papers, this mug, and the picture of my daughter that has faded. I can't remember what she looked like now because I've never seen her in years - so as my ex-wife after our divorce.

It's not the end of the world, I made myself believe as I crossed the street and dragged my worn-out shoes. Until my knees buckled and the box slipped through my hands. It exploded outside the walkway of what I saw was a measly barbershop. I didn't bother to pick my things up because I already thought of a good idea, Why don't I start a new life with a haircut? Yet from pushing that glass door, a voice already told me it was a mistake.

Three barbers, two of 'em, one with a pot belly, and one bald were trimming customers. While the third one who looked at me with loathe was a short man with a head full of hair and a beard. From the way he asked me so blatantly, "Are you getting a haircut, chink?" I knew I wouldn't like this guy. "Can you make me look like that?" I asked politely, pointing at one of the displayed haircut styles. I trusted firmly that he could do that.

"Get your eyes open first!" he mocked and I knew right away that this man wasn't trustworthy. Not at all.

The lime cloth billowed as he wrapped it around me. Then he proceeded to brush my hair so relentlessly that my head almost grazed my shoulder. "Easy, please," I said sheepishly. But he just scoffed and changed the clipper of his electric razor. They continued - if it was discontinued - comparing their wives, who's the most beautiful, who's best in bed. While I looked directly at the mirror, seeing my unshaven face, unkempt black hair, hollow jowls, and blank slanted eyes, I looked away. Landing on those tools in the rack, the scissors, the razor blade, the electric cord.

As the barber began cutting my hair, I closed my eyes but my mind only repeated what all happened today before I got here. Backwards, it flashed. I was fired, into the same mundane office where I arrived in the morning by train, to my house full of nothing but trash. I came back to reality as the bearded barber slicked my hair back. Behind me, I heard him say, "I don't mind if we exchange wives." Then they laughed. I didn't.

I caught a glimpse of rust on the blade before he shaved my sideburns. It stung when his hand slipped - clearly intentional. I expected an apology, waited. I gritted my teeth and he saw it. "Don't get angry now," he said, "mistakes happen, boss."

___

"How short should I cut it?"

"Not too short."

"Like this, ching ching?" he asked as he mowed a large chunk of my hair. "I thought you were going for a monk hairstyle."

"No, I -"

They laughed again. Suddenly my chest tightened, my breath became rapid, and I felt my seat vibrating. Under the lime green cloth, I clenched my fist. It wasn't what I wanted. But isn't that everything that's happened till now? It always isn't what I wanted. Slowly, I opened my hands and breathed.

___

I stepped out of the barbershop without leaving a tip. I still didn't pick up the mess I made outside. Everywhere, I see a glimpse of my reflection. It's hideous. Have I always been this way? Maybe he wanted me to look like this. I looked like a joke.

I should've listened to the voice inside my head. But no one will be sorry even if you ask for the life you had, it said. Which made me change my mind.

LET THE WORLD END.

Everything else is insignificant. Not me. This world is hideous. Not me. Though this must be a joke, not a coincidence.

At the same station I was going home to, I saw him. The barber who cut my hair. If it isn't the man who killed my hope, I thought. He was alone and passed beyond the yellow line. Surreptitiously, I stood behind him and waited as the train was coming. Then the voice spoke to me again, buzzing, like an electric razor...

push him off the rails

All of a sudden, my senses became dull. But I was calm, as if all along this was what I wanted. I saw my hand lift itself in front of me and made contact with the barber's back. It was light compared to the door I pushed open at the barber shop this afternoon. It came to me, at the last second, that with a sleight of a hand, mistakes do happen. Then, in a blink of an eye, the train swished by.