I finish my regular customer, Margret a 97-year-old woman, she passes me the cash and smiles looking at herself in the reflection as she puffs her hair up. A woman in her 20s strolls in plonks herself on the chair and clicks her fingers at me.
"Can I help you?"
"You need to cut the ends off, shampoo and conditioner, dye the roots, curl, and set my hair in the next hour."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"I don't see anyone else here, do you?"
I grab the sweeping brush and move all of Margret's hair into the hair bin."
"Hurry."
"You can wait."
"This place is getting a 3 star. If you take any longer, it will be one."
I start on her hair, I can see on her phone she is looking at a fashion magazine. I get her split ends gone, dyed when she stands up,
"Well I can't go on my date like this, I'll have to appear to be one of them girls who are late for everything." She sits back down.
I curl the hair till finally every little strand was in her perfect manner. She shoves £20 into my hand.
"I took off the amount because of your behavior." She storms out before I could say a word.
My fellow hairdresser walks in and looks at me with tear-stained eyes.
"Again?"
She nods her head and falls into my arms.
"I want him dead."
She sees the hair on the floor.
"I'll clean it"
"No go make yourself a drink I'll do it."
That night I pull my hairdressing gloves on as I sneak into the window of his house and find him soundly asleep like he hasn't just told someone that he never wants to see them again, locked her out of the house, changed the lock, thrown all her belonging on a fire. I grab a pillow and shove it over his face, 1 minute he wakes up and fights against me, 2 minutes his energy of a fight is dying 3 minutes he gets a grip on my arm and hurts me 4 minutes his body goes limp and his life is gone. I place the pillow onto the floor and mess the other side of the bed, take the hair out of my pocket and place it on the bed, the floor and then head to the bathroom and place some scissors and more hair on the floor.
I go into my shop and put the gloves into the glove box and shove the extra hair into the hair bin, I lock up and stand outside his house and phone 999. The police arrive and they break the door down and then the whole street is watching as they corner the crime scene off. They bring his body out in a bag and they let the detectives look for evidence.
I sit and wait in the shop and then she came in her eyes full of hope and love again. The news comes on
"The murderer of Killian Ford has been found, Model Alice Kingsman's hair was found at the scene."
She looks at me.
"A haircut could be one criminalizing action."
We both laugh.
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