Thank you Linda G. Hill for this week’s SoCS prompt, short.
“Cut it, short, please.”
The stylist eagerly obliged and began to share her strategic-chop-plan. Her part will fall that way. Her fringed layers will skim her chin. The stylist chirped away about the execution of her long hair. How many customers came in and ordered her to “Chop it off”?
She sat in the chair zoning, drifting, reflecting. She was hurting. Yes, this was the She got dumped. Chop the hair, haircut. She wanted to be someone else. Her girl-next-store-looks nauseated her. She felt like a fraud. A failed fraud. The problem was she did not know how to keep anything short.
She stuck around too long. She expected too much. She wished she was one of those women who knew when to cut things short and confidently walk away.
She, on the other hand, excelled at beating a dead horse. Yes, she was bleeding cliches.
She subconsciously hated this self-battery. Tears stung her eyes as she mourned the short of it all.