Chapter I — 18:45 Hair Appointment

August 21, 2017

“Noah! You need to go to your hair appointment.” “C’mon, you know I’m not in the mood.” “I know, but you need to clean up your look for Sarah’s funeral. You know how much she cared about appearances.” “Yes, of course, bu—” “You’d be disrespecting her if you went looking… well, honestly, like you do right now. Noah, she was my sister too, but I’m still going to look my best.” “Dammit, Dereck, I’ll go. I just don’t understand how everything got to this.” “I don’t know,” Dereck whispered. Noah walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light. Only one of the two bulbs flickered to life. The other had been dead for weeks, its dark glass smudged with dust—a tiny symbol of the neglect that had crept into every corner of his life. He stared at the stranger in the mirror. The eyes were hollow, bloodshot from nights without rest. His skin had taken on the pale, sallow tone of someone who hadn’t felt the sun in far too long. The faint stubble on his jaw wasn’t intentional; it was just one more thing he hadn’t bothered to fix. Water hissed from the faucet. He splashed it onto his face, letting the cold sting his skin, willing it to shock him into feeling something other than the numb ache lodged in his chest. Behind him, Dereck leaned against the doorway, arms folded. His suit jacket hung open, the dark fabric catching the weak light. “You’ve got to pull it together, Noah.” Noah let the water drip from his chin before reaching for a towel. “Pull it together for who? Everyone’s already made up their mind about me.” “For Sarah,” Dereck said simply. The name cut deeper than any insult could. Noah didn’t respond. The drive to the appointment was quiet, the kind of silence that pressed in from all sides. Outside, the sky was a washed-out gray, heavy with the threat of rain. The streets felt emptier than usual, as though the city itself was holding its breath. When they arrived, Noah stepped out first, the scent of wet pavement filling his nose. The barbershop’s windows were fogged from the warmth inside, the glow of fluorescent lights spilling onto the sidewalk. He hesitated at the door. Dereck’s voice was low but firm. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.” Noah finally pushed inside. The smell of shaving cream and hair clippings hit him immediately. The hum of clippers and the low murmur of conversation filled the space. He sank into the chair, eyes unfocused on the mirror before him. The barber didn’t ask questions—just got to work, the buzz of the clippers blending with the storm beginning to patter against the windows. For a brief moment, Noah closed his eyes and let the sound drown out the world.