A place for thought.

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The Knife

“Shut-up and sit!” it wasn’t very nice but something about the dimple in her cheek and her shoulder length black hair swinging with every movement of her round little head that took most of the sting out of it. I sat and made sure not a sound escaped my lips. I wanted to impress her with my obedience.

“Tilt your head back and don’t move!” I tilted my head back as far as it would go, bunching my neck muscles with my shoulder muscles.

“More.” my head went back another half an inch and I scooted forward in the chair an inch.

“Be still or I’ll cut your fool head off! “ she was shouting but it was like the opposite of a stage whisper and was not really very loud, the rest of the people in the room couldn’t hear. She smeared a warm, white form over half my face and down the front of my neck carefully wiping the gel from between her small fingers before reaching for the razor sharp blade lying on the counter behind me.

I gave my existence completely to her, closed my eyes and thought of good times while the razor sharp blade mowed tracks of stubble from my face.

“All done sir”, the dimple deepens when she smiles. “See that wasn’t so bad,” her smile is as good as any I’ve seen. As I climb out of the chair, with a quick look into the mirror, I can see a spot she missed. I reach into my back pocket for cash, thinking I can fix it at home but she’s too quick.

“Oh my I missed a spot!” before I can protest she has the knife back in her hand. She studies my head with her left hand and leans against me to keep me from bolting. It just takes a second to remove the strays and I get a big, satisfied smile from her. I grin back, like a kid with his first balloon, and dig ten bucks out of my wallet.