cut me

I woke up feeling scraggly and generally unkempt, untangled myself from Sage's deathgrip and trudged to the bathroom. Lights on, squinting at myself in the predawn, yawn, yawn and I see facial hair gone mad.

I miss my barber.

I borrow Nikki's Veniss - girly girl curl, brilliantine aqua, and soft - and attempt to cut through the growth. Scissors, I need scissors, to trim and shape and contour the beard, to snip the stragglers, to fix and look effortless.

Before I die a death of a thousand cuts, Nikki saves me, wielding comb and shears - snipsnip - like she's done it for a billion years.

Now I look semi-normal.

But, by Toutatis, I miss my barber.