O4m Barbershop Sc. 2 Apr 2026

Another snip. More hair falls.

Ezra sets the mirror down. Picks up his helmet. This time, he holds it like a helmet, not a bomb.

The bell above the door jingles, but no one enters. O4M doesn’t look up.

You left a little length at the crown.

Ezra hesitates, then takes the middle chair. He does not spin it or adjust it. He sits like a man sitting in a waiting room.

The clippers move in steady, careful strokes. The sound is rhythmic—almost musical. The light through the dusty window shifts.

They’re lying. It doesn’t get easier. You just get taller. The grief stays the same size, but you grow around it. Eventually, you forget it’s there. Until you bump into it again in the dark. o4m barbershop sc. 2

Chair’s warm. Sit.

You want me to tell you it gets easier?

O4M sets the shears down. He walks over, drapes the fresh apron around Ezra’s neck. The cloth settles like a sigh. Another snip

That’s the part you hold onto.

What if I don’t want to recognize myself?