The Queen's Curls

-2001- Reflections

Gregory must have oiled the hinges because they didn't squeak as her next client entered her shop.

"Hello, love," the parlour woman says. "How can I help you?"

The girl in front of her smiles. "I'd like a haircut, please."

The parlour woman mirrors the girl's expression. "Of course. Follow me, love."

The two women make their way over to a salon chair and the parlour woman's client, seemingly hesitant, sits down.

The parlour woman drapes à large piece of fabric around the girl's shoulders. "What kind of cut would like, love?"

The girl starts to fidget. "I don't really know. I just came here to get something different, and because I've never been here before."

The parlour woman smiles and fluffs the girls hair up a bit. "I think something around here" — she places the side of her hand just below the girl's jaw — "would work wonders with your face shape."

The girl smiles a small smile. "Do you have any examples?"

The parlour woman gestures to the mirror and smirks. "See for yourself."

The girl in front her turns to face the mirror, and sees that her reflection has changed. She no longer has her long, brown locks. They had been replaced by a jaw-length bob with a multitude of layers, accompanied by side bangs and curls.

But as the girl looked down at her hair, she saw that it was back to how it originally was; long brown locks with ends as dead as her grandmother.

She turns her head to face the parlour woman. "How did you do that?"

The parlour woman smiles and walks over to the mirror. "It is called reflection manipulation. If I have an idea that involves something in the real world, I can manipulate the reflections made by mirrors to, say, test it out."

The girl smiles. "That is awesome. I also really like that haircut. Do you think you could do that?"

The parlour woman grins. "Of course love. What is your name, might I ask?"

"I'm Emily Brandt."

"That is a lovely name. Now, let's get started, shall we?"

x x x

The two ladies make the well known journey over to the front counter with Emily touching the ends of her freshly cut hair every few moments. As they reach the counter and the parlour woman starts to rummage through a drawer, Emily smiles to herself, and continues fiddling with the ends of her hair.

The parlour woman finally emerges with a singular bangle bracelet. "I would like to give you this. This time has been with me since my very first encounter with-"

The sound of an explosion interrupts them, and that sound is soon followed by screams. The parlour woman instantly runs out of her shop and instantly finds the source of the sound.

One of the towers had been hit with a plane, and the streets of New York were overrun with rubble and debris and broken glass and broken cars — broken everything.

The parlour woman's observations were interrupted by a sob that came from somewhere to her left. She looked to see Emily's eyes glued to the tower that had been hit, and she was crying. She was crying so hard that it seemed her body could barely keep up with the trembles if each sob.

"No!" she cries. "No, Thea! She's still in there!"

The parlour woman turns Emily's face to her and looks into her eyes with a type of determination that even the fiercest lioness could never mirror. "Tell me slowly, Emily. Who is in there?"