A foreign city. Darkness. Rain in buckets. Soaked feet. Narrow streets. Open doors leading to a patio. Mammoths. Unisex hairdressers advertising male cuts for €16. Two strangers go in. Three languages spoken at that improvised Tower of Babel. Boy needs a haircut. Girl seats on spare chair. Hair is washed. Boy is quiet. Scissors next. Boy instructs girl. Girl instructs hairdresser. Boy looks serious, focused. Girl thinks she's never been waiting at the hairdressers for a boy before. She might never do it again. Fishnet tights and a short dress. A pull in the fine mesh. Girl plays with it and smiles at the boy, reassuringly. Hairdresser's doing a good job. Boy remains silent. He is quiet, maybe shy, and looks sad - not at all the girl's type but she's at the hairdressers with him. Girl wonders what that means. Job is done. Boy asks the girl what she thinks. She wants to run her hand through the recent haircut and kiss him. Girl smiles: ' I love it'. Rain is taking a break as a boy and a girl walk out into the dark, narrow street holding hands.
It happened a hundred years ago. It happened today.
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4 comments:
Very sweet and beautiful and tender, Thanks for sharing:)
Lovely. Truly, truly lovely. :-)
Thank you, ladies :))
Wow! This is a fantastic piece of writing. I was right there in the story - could feel the rain soaking my feet and the dark damp Dublin air surrounding me! You are really talented!!!
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