Dangerous

We awoke and had toast. He ate around the edges making the bread smaller bite by bite. He was contemplating. Looking at the street below. The cat was stretched out on the open window sill. I think you should do it he said. There’s no point hanging onto something which is dead. I told him it was part of him. That things would change if his locks were shorn. He swallowed his toast and licked his fingers. Resolute. Do it he said and he turned his chair towards the window and looked out. I stood behind him. Lined the scissors up along the bottom of his hairline. I was unsure. Sick with the danger of change. I had to grip the scissors because my fingers were slick with sweat. The sun bounced off the metallic blades. I set my mouth and focussed my eyes. With a crisp shearing sound the scissors cut though his hair. With a sigh I watched his curls fall to my feet. The last memory of summer falling. The last part of him I could touch passing through my fingers. Samson swept up and thrown away.