Just Adrian

The Haircut

The first snip of the scissors sent a heap of my hair tumbling to the floor. Funny how some people wouldn’t care, but I cared because I have lived my life having the same hairstyle but with a little bit of shaping to make it look presentable. Over there the stylist carved my hair like it was a sculpture. I had to bring myself to accept the fact that old things had passed away. At least for now. Here, in this little salon with faded posters and the faint scent of lavender shampoo, it felt human.

Her fingers brushed lightly against my temple as she adjusted the angle. I felt stiffened. Not because it was unpleasant but because it was the opposite. It has been years since anyone touched me without an ulterior motive.

“Relax,” she said casually, almost like she could hear my thoughts. I was nervous. I forced a breath through my chest. “Easier said than done.” Her lips smirked, the faintest smile as she worked.

“City guys like you probably think a haircut is a major operation. Here we just cut hair, it grows back, you know.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Yeah, I have been told.”

The scissors clipped rhythmically, and the sound became soothing. Outside the wide windows, the sun drifted slowly through the sheer curtains, catching motes in the air. A little boy sprinted on the sidewalk chasing a dog. It was a world I only saw through glossy magazine features, the kind that painted small-town life as charming and almost unbelievable.

Except here it was real and she was real.

“So,” she said, breaking the silence. “What brings you to Edinburgh Ville is because we don’t really get new faces every day. Except you’re lost.

“I just…needed a change of scenery,” I said carefully. She arched a brow at me through the mirror, “That’s absurd, if you needed a change of environment, why then did you come to this small town?”

I shrugged. “I guess I liked this small town. It gives me room to figure things out.”

“You plan on staying here for long?” She asked instead.

“Maybe,” I said.” Depends on if there is no longer a reason to.”

Her gaze flicked to mine in the reflection, bright but expressionless. I felt like she was trying to get the truth I wasn’t saying. Then she tipped her head and continued cutting as if she didn’t want to ask any more questions.

When she finished, she brushed off the remaining hair on my neck with a soft cloth. The touch was quick, businesslike, but it sent a cold shiver towards me.

She removed the cafe and dusted her hands. “The haircut is free for first timers.”

I stood checking the hair through the mirror. It is clean, simple, and it’s nothing like the sculptured look I used to do. And still looks more me than any cut I have ever done.

“You did a good job,” I said.

Her mouth pressed into a reserved smile. “It’s just hair, Adrian”

But she was wrong. It wasn’t just hair. I liked this one better than the previous. It was me trying to discard something. Maybe trying to be someone I couldn’t be in my old life.

“Thanks,” I said, pulling out my wallet.

She gave a keen look. “I said don’t argue.” I stood still and slid the wallet back into my pocket. “Alright, no argument.”

Her smile deepened ever so slightly, as if she’d claimed some quiet victory.

As I moved toward the door, someone’s voice called out from behind me. “See you around, Adrian.”

Turning, I found her in the middle of the salon, broom in hand, glowing in the sunlight in a way that made me hesitate.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice harsher than I meant. “You will.”

I stepped outside, the bell above the door jingling behind me, echoing down Main Street. My head felt lighter, and it had nothing to do with the haircut…it was her.

Ridiculous as it sounded, I’d been in Edinburgh Ville under a week, and still, every instinct told me this wasn’t just a temporary stop. Something was unfolding here, and I couldn’t ignore it.

And her name was Amanda.

The bell above Lily’s salon door jingled, fading into the hum of Main Street, and that’s when it hit me. I needed somewhere to call my own. The little apartment I’d been staying at was fine, but temporary, like a waiting room for a life I hadn’t claimed yet. The sheets were clean, the bed was soft enough, but it didn’t feel like mine. If I wanted anyone here to see me as more than a passerby, I needed roots. A place that smelled like me, felt like me. A place I could leave a mark on without anyone rolling their eyes.

So I started walking. Main Street in Edinburgh Ville wasn’t long, two blocks, maybe three, but it had character. Steam curled from the diner’s vent, carrying the rich smell of coffee and frying bacon. The bakery’s crooked sign swayed lazily in the afternoon breeze, hinting at sweet pastries waiting inside. The hardware store’s windows gleamed with every tool imaginable, and the corner shop, its paint chipped, its door squeaking, sold everything from motor oil to yarn. Even from outside, I could hear the low murmur of familiar voices and the occasional burst of laughter.

Everyone seemed to know everyone here. They didn’t glance at me with polite curiosity; they studied me, like I was a puzzle missing half its pieces. Faces appeared at the windows, nodded at one another, whispered behind their hands.

I didn’t mind. Better to be puzzled than recognized. I could observe, learn, slip into the rhythm of the town without being under anyone’s microscope. For now, that was enough. Main Street wasn’t just a street, it was a map of life already lived, a series of doors, of moments, of people I had yet to meet. And I would. Slowly, deliberately.