It was 7 pm on a Friday. The sun was making its slow decent in the western sky. I lowered my visor and squinted at traffic. The air conditioning blasted its protest over the June heat and the man-child sniffled quietly in the seat beside me as his hometown slowly faded into the distance behind us. For a moment, I remembered him as a small child hiding behind his father. Now his tears were falling from a face hidden behind long hair; the last vestige of the childhood of a boy trying so hard to become a strong man.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” I asked him, “Knowing that your entire life will fit into one car.”
He laughed, a little bitterly. “Yeah.” he said, “Yeah, it is.”
I squeezed his hand reassuringly and we drove for a while without speaking.
Later, he asked “Will you cut my hair?”
I smiled & my heart swelled. “Sure.” I answered, “I’ll cut your hair.”