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Walking out there was a scene I—for a split second—took pity upon. Hand on chest the person in the chair was getting his hair cut. Could be a shave, depends on how the look ends up as. There was no cape. There used to be a cape that would be draped over the person in the chair. But not today. Perhaps not for a long time. There can only be mistakes to follow. The cape used to cover the clothes. But the man was just sitting there with what seemed like hairy fabrics having hair fall down around and on him. For five dollars this little scene wouldn't have had to taken place. But five dollars wouldn't be spent that way. Better nothing and the ire of removing hair from clothing than paying some merchant coins to prevent that problem. It was only a split second. Oh how a resolve can crumble on mere pity alone.
Thursday, 24 January 2002 - 04:56
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