Her friend, the “tough” barber, switched off the clippers, looked at her, and suddenly said:
— “You’re not alone in this.”
He picked up the clippers, brought them to his own head, and drew a straight line through his thick, long hair. The sound of the blades filled the air again, and black locks fell beside hers. The young woman stared at him in shock, her tear-filled eyes wide open:
— “What are you doing?!
Why?”
He smiled, continuing to cut his own hair. — “If you’re going through this, then I am too. Hair will grow back, but friendship and support are more important.”
The tears of pain in her eyes turned into tears of surprise and gratitude.
Her shoulders trembled, but no longer from despair — from the overwhelming emotions. She watched as his hair fell to the floor alongside hers, and for the first time in a long while, she felt that she truly wasn’t alone in this battle. Even the other barbers froze, watching the scene.
The young woman whispered softly:
— “Thank you… you can’t imagine how much this means to me.”
He placed his hand on hers and said:
— “Now look in the mirror. You’re beautiful. Not because of your hair.
You’re beautiful because you’re fighting.”
