when the thing i’m judging turns out to be a reflection

The other day I asked a friend where she was about to get her haircut (she was on her way out the door) and she said that her current stylist used to work at a place called X, which wasn’t great for a number of reasons (she lists them all), but the same stylist is fortunately working now at a place called [SALON], which isn’t just cleaner and more efficient but is also actually several miles closer to my friend’s apartment than the previous salon. My friend tells me that this new salon is part of a chain that’s been exploding in popularity over the past five years and that there are now six or seven locations between here and Boca. My friend tells me that her stylist enjoys working at this new place but the downside appears to be that she’s chattier than ever. Won’t shut the fuck up. My friend tells me that there are times when she has to tell the stylist, “Hey, I like talking to you, but I’ve got places to be, let’s hurry this up,” which invariably offends the stylist, which is bad, because my friend says that this stylist has got zero compunction about voicing that offense because y’see she and my friend (“you’ll like this”) actually went to high school together, not even knowing it at the time, and this shared background so blew their minds when they first figured it out, in the middle of a three-hour haircut, that they get kinda mystical about it, act like theirs was a friendship written in the stars…

She’s still got her keys in her hand as she tells me all this. She’s standing by the door.

Familiar Reflection, Walter John Rodriguez

I’m at Redbar with Bob and Lynda saying, “…she just went on and on. I asked her where she’s getting her haircut and she talked for twenty fucking minutes. Starts ten paces back from the answer and goes forty paces beyond it.”

Lynda cocks a brow, smirks, “Oh you mean she did exactly what you always do?”

I’m balking. “I do not.”

Lynda trades a glance with Bob like a secret’s just been slipped.

I look back and forth between them. “Do I talk that much?”

Lynda says, “You’re…you’re more mindful of what’s boring but, y’know, yeah, when you see a window to tell a long story, you tend to go for it.”

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