They came to me with hair filled with colour.
I miss them a lot.
And the only thing I seem to remember is the shape of their hair and all the rainbow it contained, from blue, to pink, to red, to green, to blonde, to finally going back to the normal root colour.
You could say the hair had personality of its own.
She was a stranger and a musician, and I had to know her.
She was a strong soul, and even holding her hand felt like a superpower I couldn't control.
Short cut hair.
Swept over her eyes, over her ears.
Framing her smile.
She is the most complicated thing to come from all of this.
The semester didn't treat either of us well.
Slight curl to dark short hair. Shaven around the back, kept remarkably short.
Leaving her face untouched.
I've shaved my head twice.
No shame in it.
My dignity not what it used to be.
My hair hangs down past my shoulders.
4:40pm comes around and I've lost inches upon inches of my hair.
Slightly bobbed at the ends, framing my chin and shoulders.
Changing my hair part again.
Moving from side to center.
Straight hair, dark colour, lighter.
I like the aesthetic.
And I like these people.
I miss them most days.
But even though I'm now a short haired person myself.
I still forget about it...
Only to find my reflection later.
Haircuts are something else.
— The End —