8 of 54

Write now Article Tools

She's pretty, I thought. She looks nothing like me, my thought continues on. I'm not tyring to do anything except trying to tell a story.
I'm not trying to describe my emotions or how I felt, how I felt at this moment, or how this person made me feel; I'm just trying to tell a story. Of course, she's pretty because she looks nothing like me. We have a different body type, different shape of face, different color hair, different heights; we are opposites. She looks nothing like me but I wonder if she could like me for that.

So pretty and I'd like to watch as she strides down the street putting on her own air of grace. It's not like my grace, if I had any. Time for my hair cut. Besides, I don't want her to catch me staring. I don't want her to look at me and analyze what I look like. I'm not a lesbian, after all.

So I walked into the hair dresser down the street in the other direction from where she was heading. I smile at the receptionist and tell her my name, Natalie. She says Karen will be right with you dear. Don't call me dear, I think, you don't even know me. People who think they know me call me dear and it bothers me.
I sit down and pick up a magazine.
I page through it for 2 minutes before feeling the urge to puke up all the shallow thoughts permeating my mind.
I reach into my ragged leather purse and take hold of the one book that I was carrying with me at this time; I'm always carrying at least one book with me at every given time; you can never be too prepared. I didn't even get to open it before bleach blonde Karen read my name with big white fake teeth, Natalie!, off the receptionist's sign-in sheet without lifting a pupil in my direction. I sat on the black, shiny cushion.

So

Pause

Whatdya want?

Well, I want it short. It's spring and it's getting warm. I'd like something stylish.

Well your hair is thin so I can angle it but it won't look stylish. You have such thin hair. I can angle it if you want.

With pinched lips I nod, hiding my disdain. Hairdressers always
know best. Even if it's not what you want. Even if it's your own head. I opened my mouth but she beat me to it,

It would look like this! She said, a Barbie, so excited and directed my blonde hair with her hands in the direction she'd take it with the scissors.

Well that's not what I was going to say I thought but hell, whatever.
It's my hair, it's your job. I don't know what even looks good on me anymore.
Ok, I say quietly so it seems sweet even though it's bitter. The woman didn't look at her

• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: Unrequited love?
We want to hear your view. Write now!