Dangerous Allure
Once, half-joking, half-serious, he’d said, “Short hair gives off lesbian vibes, babe. Don’t do that to me.”
I stared at my reflection. Thought about Maira’s mouth on me thirty minutes earlier. The way my body had opened for her without hesitation. The way I hadn’t wanted to stop her.
Maybe it wasn’t a joke.
Maybe it was a prophecy.
I reached for the scissors on the counter, the sharp ones I used for fabric when I still pretended to sew. I gathered the length in one fist and began to cut. I cut until it was the length of a choppy pixie that framed my face. When I finished, the sink was full of my old life.
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