Beautician Stops Combing
The beautician frowns in the mirror.
She stops combing.
I think she has found a tick.
I get them frequently. I live in the country.
Why would you have paint in your hair? She asks me.
I am a painter, I tell her.
She gives me a look I have not seen since my mother died.
I have to laugh.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2022
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