A Gypsy woman.

“here.” He sighs reaching into his pocket. “Let me!” he groans like he’s frustrated to have to come to my rescue yet again.

I frown helplessly as he walks behind me and pulls the hair back little piece by piece. My heart stops at his closeness. As I feel the heat of his skin radiating onto mine. My breath is caught in my chest as his rough calloused fingers slowly graze the side of my neck as he pulls back hair. He take his time, pulling every last strand into a single handful of hair. And then ties it all together with a bright red ribbon that hangs down as long as my hair does.

Then as he’s finished tying it off his fingers sort of trail down my hair, playing with it almost. A shudder goes through my spine, and involuntarily I shake.

He pulls back his hands then. And I turn around to face him, face free of hair at last.

“What would I do without you?”