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It's Me or the Hair by Joelsweet

"Clement, do we need more eggs?" I rolled my eyes and pressed my mouth into a thin line. I’d already told him three times that we did, but he’d been so busy admiring his own reflection in the store window to know that.
"Yes. We do," I responded flatly. Levi stopped preening himself and looked over at me.
"Something wrong?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Nothing, just that maybe if you stopped fixing your hair for five seconds and listened to what I was saying, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself a million times," I snapped. He laughed me off.
"Oh, you’re just jealous that I’m so much more attractive than you." He tossed his wavy black hair over one shoulder to emphasize his point. "Believe me, if you looked half as good as me, you’d be staring at yourself too." That really stung, but I refused to let him see that.
"You’re like f**king Narcissus," I muttered, but he didn’t hear me. We wandered around the supermarket, and Levi stopped periodically to take selfies or inspect himself in a particularly shiny piece of metal or a mirror. He didn't seem to catch on that I was mad at him. It was quite amazing, actually; it was as if I wasn't there at all. I was ignored as we made our way to the checkout line, as I paid, and as we walked to the car, me pushing the cart the whole time. And as I drove us back to our flat in silence, I wondered how I'd let it get this bad. It hadn't been like this when we'd first started dating. We'd spent every moment together, and he had stayed off his phone while he was talking to me. When did he start not seeing me?

And then it hit me. It was once he started growing out his hair that he'd begun to drift away. That god-awful mane. Bouncing and catching the light as it hung right at at Levi’s shoulder blades in silky tendrils. It was like a monster, and he kept feeding it with more and more product and money, and it just kept growing. It was beautiful, of course, but that was exactly the problem. He'd spent more and more time preening and obsessing over it, until there was little time left for anything else. Little time for me. The gears in my head began to click into place, and it dawned on me that there was only one solution: the hair had to go.

To be continued..

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