As he squirmed in the leather seat he was bound to by promise, the lesson that nothing worthwhile comes easy was a burden he was too restless to bear today. A lesson he would not hesitate to give up at a moment's notice. As he studied the dirty Jordans he had scuffed one, too many times, he thought about mother, she wouldn't approve of his choice to be here. She didn’t approve of much where he was concerened
As the blade travelled around his face, he raised his chin higher than he needed to. Not ready to look in the mirror, very content to count the squares in the ceiling above. Many times he almost reached up to scratch his itching face.
“Dude, I’m almost done”
Not entirely ready to respond and not eager to offend the man who held a sharp instrument to his face, he acknowledged with a nod and allowed his eyes to travel appreciatively from fingers to arm and back, enjoying the distinctive tribal tattoo. Mother would not approve of him too.
Leaning into the soft, light strokes that seemed to never end, he sighed loudly.
Okay, Okay, I'm done.
The barber who was friend leaned over and looked into his eyes.
Are you ready to see?
Show Me, he replied
With a nod and the barber spun him to around to a face he hadn't seen for many years.
How did you do that? I can't even see the scar! He was excited.
Oh I know many tricks he replied, leaning over his friend’s shoulder in conspiratorial whisper
Still watching himself, he smiled, tears in his eye. Even his joy was different on this face, mother surely will not approve, well... she shouldn't have given him this scar in the first place.
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