Mark by burrlypup

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I've owned a small coffee shop since I was 25, and business has been good. It's in a trendy area of town where hipsters are willing to pay $5 a cup because it isn't Starbucks, and I keep the place comfy with couches and chill playlists.

Out of all my regulars, I look forward to Mark the most each morning. He's been coming in since I took over six years before. He's a bit shorter than me, about five foot ten, strong but lean build and a thick pelt of brown hair, buzzed to stubble once a week. I look forward to Monday mornings because he seems to clipper shave his head sometime over the weekend so it's nearly bald by the time I see him. He is very friendly, though a few times his eyes seemed to linger on me, or his hand would slowly brush against mine as he placed his change in my hand. I didn't want to misinterpret his body language so I smiled and thanked him.

This past week, Mark was out of town. My days were lesser for it, but I carried on. I was surprised to see him on a weekend, though not alone for the first time. He had a buddy, a tall ginger haired fellow about my size, and like he had long hair to his shoulders. Their body language suggested something intimate. When Mark gave his friend a kiss and they sat down, my heart sank and buried myself in my books the rest of the weekend.
Monday morning, I got in at 3am. I was less aware that it was a Monday. Mark came in about 7am and I hid my disappointment as best I could. As he approached the counter, he pulled off his knit cap, revealing his head. Only this time, it was razor shaved and gleamed under my lighting. I couldn't take my eyes off it.

"Doesn't look too bad does it? My boyfriend told me he always wanted to shave someones head, so I let him this morning." Mark told me as he rubbed his slick scalp. I felt the sting of each word so intensely. His 'boyfriend' and such...

"It looks really good on you, might have to try it myself." I responded, aching inside of maintaining my composure without considering what I was saying.

"Really? You've had that manbun for as long as I've known you. Long before they became trendy." Mark seemed to be pushing my buttons. Of course I love my long hair, but never thought it defined me.

"I need a change," was all I said.

"Why don't you come over to my place tonight and I'll ease you into that change?" Mark offered, his eyes peering deep into mine.
I agreed and he left me his address on a napkin. I walked to the restroom and looked into the mirror, stroking my long hair. What had I gotten myself into?

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