“Yeah,” Looking at the person staring back at me in the barber’s mirror, the person with long hair that was never quite the perfect fit, I nod. “I want it short, I’m sure.”

The barber scratches his tilted head. “That’s… quite the change there, little lady.” He says.

My heart sinks into my chest.

That’s right…

I look to my knees, to my scrunched fists that rest over my black jeans.

It’s not because Ronnie sees me as a man that they all will.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Uncurling my fingers, I say: “It is, isn’t it?” A nervous laugh escapes past my lips. “But… I’ve always wanted to try it.”

He sighs. “Well, all right, but don’t come crying to me once ye’ and up regretting your choice, little lady.”

In the corner of my eye, concentrated on his smartphone tucked between his hands, Ronnie scrolls through his messages. He leans against a bench outside, pauses, and sneaks a glance my way before giving me a thumbs up.

I give him the finger.

He laughs.

I snicker and mouth the word: thanks.

The barber turns his back on me.

He grabs his scissors.

Ronnie’s index finger finds itself pressed to his screen again as he goes back to swiping, up, then down.

I glance back to my legs, where chesnut strands have already begun to fall.

I smile.

Finally.