The Mirror's Edge by Fredrick

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Josh stood in the bathroom, gripping the clippers, the weight of them matched only by the knot in his stomach. His reflection stared back, defiant yet unsure, a mop of thick brown hair falling messily over his forehead. It wasn’t thinning, graying, or retreating. In fact, it was enviable—thick, healthy, and often complimented.

But it wasn’t him anymore.

Everyone seemed to have an opinion. His mom adored his hair, constantly reminding him how lucky he was. His friends would laugh whenever he joked about shaving it off, claiming he’d regret it. Even strangers seemed to notice his hair, commenting on its shine, its fullness.

But Josh had grown tired of being the "guy with great hair." He wasn’t sure when the thought had first taken root, but for weeks now, the idea of going bald had been haunting him. Not out of necessity, but as a statement. A fresh start. A way to strip away expectations and redefine himself.

And yet, standing here, clippers in hand, doubt pressed against him like a heavy shadow.

"What if I hate it?" he whispered to the mirror, turning his head side to side. His hair caught the light, soft and rich, the kind you see in shampoo ads. He reached up, running his fingers through it one last time, feeling the familiar texture. The thought of losing it made his chest tighten.

But wasn’t that the point?

Josh turned on the clippers, the buzz filling the room like a challenge. His grip tightened, and for a long moment, he just stood there, staring at himself. The guy in the mirror wasn’t who he wanted to be anymore.

"Do it," he muttered, steeling himself.

He brought the clippers to his temple, paused, then pressed the blade down. The first strip fell away, soft brown locks tumbling into the sink. His heart raced, but the sense of release was immediate.

He kept going, carving a path through the familiar waves. Each swipe of the clippers brought him closer to something raw, something new. By the time he was halfway through, a strange calm settled over him.

When he finished, Josh turned the clippers off and leaned in close to the mirror. His reflection was almost unrecognizable. His sharp cheekbones and strong jawline, hidden by his hair for so long, now stood out. He ran his hand over his smooth scalp and let out a shaky laugh.

It wasn’t bad. It was bold.

Stepping back, he felt lighter, freer. The hair was gone, but so was the pressure, the need to conform. For the first time in a long time, Josh felt like himself.

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