The overhead light was too bright.
The white tile made everything look clinical.
I stared at myself.
Half my hair hung around my face.
The other half had been butchered.
A red strip crossed my scalp where Eleanor had pressed too hard.
I touched it.
It burned.
I looked terrible.
But the woman in the mirror did not look defeated.
She looked awake.
I turned the clippers on.
The buzz filled the bathroom.
Daniel appeared behind me.
“Mariana.”
I lifted the clippers.
Then ran them straight over the top of my head.
Black hair fell into the sink.
Daniel froze.
“What are you doing?”
I kept going.
Another strip.
Then another.
Eleanor came to the doorway.
Her satisfaction disappeared.
“Stop.”
I looked at her in the mirror.
“Why?”
“You don’t need to make a spectacle.”
I laughed softly.
“This was your idea.”
I ran the clippers over the other side.
Hair fell across my shoulders.
Into the sink.
Onto the tile.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Mariana, enough.”
“No.”
I kept shaving.
Every lock.
Every uneven patch.
Every piece she might think she owned.
When I finished, my head was nearly bare.
My scalp was red in several places.
My eyes looked enormous.
My jaw hurt because I had been clenching my teeth.
I turned off the clippers.
Silence.
I turned around.
Daniel stared at me like he no longer recognized his wife.
That was fair.
I did not recognize her either.
The woman who kept explaining.
The woman who kept paying.
The woman who kept telling herself this was temporary.
She was gone.
“What are you doing?”
Daniel sounded nervous now.
I smiled.
“You’re right.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Tomorrow I’ll quit.”
Eleanor’s face brightened instantly.
“I’ll stay home.”
I continued.
