“How would you like your hair cut today?”
“You know,” said the rich man, “the same as usual.”
“The same as usual,” repeated the barber cheerfully with rhythm as if something exciting had happened.
The barber started to cut the rich man’s hair: chop, chop, chop. The scissor worked with his hand so fast and easy. There was no one in the store: just the barber and the rich man. The chopping sound seemed to echo around the room. The rich man’s hair was falling on the cloth that the barber put around the rich man’s body. The rich man felt aged. How many times had he cut his hair? As the hair got cut, it seemed as if his life was getting cut: more time gone, fewer things to do. After all, no one could grab the passing time. The time even passed when he was thinking about this. He knew he would look younger after the haircut, but he wouldn’t be younger like before.
Third Place (tied)
Hart House Literary Contest