ShreyF
The 40 page original comic is available on my patreon
Maya arrived at the airport with a suitcase, a black handbag, and brown hair that reached her waist. She had spent forty minutes brushing it before leaving. “Three days away,” Maya said, pulling her suitcase toward security. “No work. No responsibilities.” Jess turned around, her blonde updo coming loose. “And absolutely no sensible decisions.” Nina adjusted her glasses. “I would like the record to show that I object to the last part.”
Their hotel room overlooked Las Vegas. Jess dropped onto a bed with both arms raised, Nina unpacked toiletries, and Maya stood at the window, lifting her hair away from her neck. “Can we survive until checkout without losing anything?” Nina asked. Maya smiled over her shoulder. “Relax. We’re adults.” Later, she curled her hair carefully, winding thick sections around the heated barrel. The finished waves fell over her red dress, glossy and heavy. When Jess called them ridiculous, Maya looked offended until she added, “Ridiculously good.”
At nine fourteen, Maya took a photograph of the three of them. Her hair filled much of the frame; Jess leaned against her with a broad grin, and Nina smiled patiently beside them. “Round one!” Jess announced. Over dinner, Maya found herself talking about something she rarely admitted. “I feel like I’ve been the exact same person for five years.” Nina said that wasn’t necessarily bad. Jess pointed at her hair. “You’ve had that since I’ve known you.” Maya gathered a handful protectively. “Because I like it.”
Later, they danced, ordered drinks, and found a karaoke microphone that Maya immediately regretted using. Jess recorded everything. At another bar, Maya noticed a woman with blunt black bangs, long pieces framing her face, and the rest of her head closely shaved. She tried to stare discreetly. “What?” Jess asked. “Nothing.” The woman turned, revealing the bare back of her head. Maya touched her own waves. “That’s actually really cool.” Jess narrowed her eyes. “Don’t.” “I didn’t say anything!”
There were more photographs, another location, and an argument about whether midnight food counted as dinner or breakfast. Maya remembered laughing outside beneath pink neon, her cheek pressed against Jess’s shoulder. She remembered putting her phone into her handbag. After that, nothing remained. When she woke, daylight hurt her eyes, her mouth was dry, and the room smelled of abandoned takeaway food. “Water,” she murmured into her pillow. She rolled over, raised a hand to move her hair, and stopped.
Her fingers met short, rough bristles. Maya sat upright. There was no familiar weight down her back, no curtain of waves sliding over her shoulders. She touched her crown, then the sides, searching for something that couldn’t possibly be missing. A narrow fringe hung against her forehead, and two longer pieces brushed her cheeks. Everything behind them was buzzed. She stumbled into the bathroom, gripped the sink, and stared. The scream that followed brought Nina running and sent Jess tumbling off the bed.
“Where is my hair?” Maya demanded. Jess stood in the doorway with her mouth open. “Oh.” Maya pointed at her. “What does ‘oh’ mean?” Nina approached carefully and inspected the back of her head. “This wasn’t an accident. It’s professionally done.” Jess looked at the neat fringe. “It’s actually—” “Don’t finish that sentence.” Maya pressed both hands against the prickly crown. “I had hair down to my waist. Find it.”
They found a salon card, a receipt, and a paper bag containing a long brown ponytail. Maya lifted it with both hands. The waves she had brushed yesterday hung lifelessly from their elastic, the cut end thick and blunt. “That’s mine.” Nina glanced between the bundle and Maya’s head. “At least you kept it.” “Nina.” “Sorry.” Jess searched her phone while Maya lowered the ponytail into the bag. “Photos,” Maya said. “Start at midnight. We’re going to find out who thought this was a good idea.”
The first photograph showed Maya beside the woman from the bar. “Chelsea!” Jess said, recognizing her. Nina remembered her approximately. A video followed. Onscreen, long-haired Maya admired Chelsea’s shaved head. “I could never do this.” Chelsea shrugged. “Then don’t.” Maya looked at herself in the mirror behind the bar, turning so that her waves spilled down her back. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “But it looks really good.” Present-day Maya watched without speaking. Jess quietly turned the volume up.
At twelve forty-six, they had reached a salon advertising late appointments. In the video, Nina held Maya’s arm. “Tomorrow.” Jess said, “Absolutely not.” Maya pointed at the door. “Just a trim.” Then she went inside. The next recording showed a stylist with short purple hair fastening a black cape around her neck. Maya’s long hair lay over its glossy surface, reaching beyond the chair. “How much?” the stylist asked. Maya pinched the ends. “Just clean it up.” Jess called that boring. Maya frowned. “Fine. Shoulders.”
The stylist brushed every section smooth and gathered the length into a low ponytail. “Wait. Why are you tying all of it?” Maya asked. “You said shoulders.” Nina leaned into the frame. “Your idea.” The scissors opened around the thick bundle beneath the elastic. The first closing stroke barely penetrated it. The stylist worked through the remaining hair with several firm cuts, each one making a dry, uneven crunch. Maya’s eyes widened as the tension against her scalp disappeared and the severed ponytail lifted away.
Loose hair dropped against her shoulders. She stared at the bundle in the stylist’s hand, then shook her head experimentally. The new ends swung around her neck instead of settling down her back. “Oh, God.” Jess laughed behind the camera. “You did it!” Maya touched the shortened waves. “I did that.” The stylist continued, combing small sections straight and trimming them into an even line. Brown pieces slid down the cape. When she finished, Maya studied the shoulder-length cut, surprised by how easily it moved.
In the hotel, Maya jabbed a finger at the screen. “That was perfectly acceptable!” The photograph showed her smiling, both hands exploring the new length. “Why did I go back?” Jess winced. “Apparently, you never left.” Another video began. Onscreen, Maya lifted a section beside her face. “It doesn’t feel different enough.” The stylist rested her scissors on the counter. “We can stop here.” Maya considered that, then pointed toward Chelsea’s photograph on her phone. “What about something like hers?” Nina said her name very quietly.
The scissors shortened the shoulder-length hair into a bob. Maya tilted her chin while the stylist worked around her jaw, clipping away the soft ends. Longer pieces settled across her lap. With each snip, more of her neck appeared, and the familiar waves became a smooth, compact shape. Maya tucked one side behind her ear and smiled at the reflection. Back in the hotel, she stared at that smiling stranger. “Who is she?” Jess folded her arms. “Someone who should probably stop.”
A photograph marked one thirty-one showed a shaved side. Maya made a strangled sound. The next video explained it. Her remaining hair was clipped up, leaving one temple exposed. The stylist raised a pair of clippers. “Those are clippers,” Maya said unnecessarily. “You requested an undercut.” The motor started with a sharp buzz. Maya’s lips tightened. The stylist placed the guard just above her ear and pushed upward. A strip of brown hair lifted, broke free, and fell onto the cape.
“Oh. That’s really short.” Another pass widened the exposed patch. The clippers followed the curve of her head, leaving closely cropped stubble where the bob had covered her skin. Maya watched every movement in the mirror, eyes wide, shoulders held rigidly beneath the cape. Jess took a photograph. “Don’t you dare,” Maya warned. Then the stylist lowered the machine, and Maya reached up. Her palm moved over the fresh bristles. She paused, rubbed them again, and smiled despite herself. “Why does this feel so good?”
Chelsea appeared in the next clip, delighted to find them still there. “You did it!” Maya turned her head, showing the buzzed side beside the remaining bob. “Half.” Chelsea smiled. “Halfway is dangerous.” Maya studied Chelsea’s bangs and the long pieces beside her ears. “What exactly is yours called?” In the hotel, Jess stopped smiling. Nina leaned closer to the phone. Onscreen, the stylist separated Maya’s fringe and temple pieces from the rest. “These stay. Everything behind them becomes short.” Jess said, “You genuinely don’t have to.”
“I know,” Maya replied. She ran her fingers through the bob one final time. Then she looked straight into the mirror. “Leave the front pieces. Buzz the rest.” The stylist pinned the saved sections securely away from the blades. Behind them, the remaining brown hair covered the crown and nape in a thick, uneven cap. She lifted a section at the back and brought the clippers underneath. Their hum deepened against the hair. The first broad strip disappeared, exposing the shape of Maya’s head.
Brown lengths dropped onto her shoulders and slid down the cape. Maya closed her eyes at the vibration against her nape, then opened them to watch the stylist make another pass. The shaved area spread upward from her neck. Each overlapping stroke removed another section of the bob, leaving an even layer of short stubble behind it. Nina stood motionless beside the chair. “You really did it.” Maya gave a startled laugh when the clippers moved behind her ear. “That tickles!” The stylist steadied her head gently.
The other side went next. With the front pieces pinned aside, the stylist pushed the clippers upward from the sideburn toward the crown. Maya could see both ears clearly now. Strips of hair accumulated against her chest, and loose ends clung to the cape’s folds. “This looks completely insane halfway through,” she said, studying the remaining tuft on top. The stylist swept the blades across it. The tuft collapsed, exposing another patch of bristles. Maya’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, wow.” Jess kept filming without offering an opinion.
The final passes crossed the crown. The stylist worked slowly, checking for longer hairs and moving the guard in different directions until the buzz looked even. Maya lowered her chin while the nape was tidied. When she looked up, almost all her brown hair lay scattered around the chair. “There is so much hair,” she said. “There was,” Jess replied. Maya glared at her. “Too soon.” The stylist unclipped the fringe and side pieces. Suddenly, the remaining lengths stood out against the closely shaved head.
Small scissors straightened the bangs across her forehead. The stylist trimmed the two face-framing pieces, combed them smooth, and brushed loose hairs from Maya’s cheeks. Without the clips, the haircut looked deliberate: short brown bristles over the crown, sides, and back, blunt bangs in front, and narrow lengths beside her face. Maya leaned toward the mirror. Her eyes looked larger, her neck completely bare. She touched the back of her head again. “Holy crap.” Behind her, Jess and Nina exchanged a silent look.
The video ended. Maya sat on the hotel bed, wearing the same red dress and the same haircut. She had watched herself request the ponytail cut, the bob, the undercut, and everything afterward. “I asked for every single part of this,” she said. Nina nodded. “Several times.” Jess raised her phone reluctantly. “There’s one more video.” Maya covered her face. “There can’t possibly be more.” But the final recording was quieter. Onscreen, she smiled at her reflection, slowly moving her hand over the buzzed crown.
“Tomorrow-me is going to freak out,” recorded Maya admitted. Nina’s voice asked why she had done it. Maya considered the question. “Because I keep saying I’ll change something someday.” She touched her bangs. “Apparently, someday is tonight.” In the bathroom, morning Maya examined the haircut again. Jess brought coffee. “Scale of one to ten?” Maya accepted a cup. “Panic? Eight.” “Regret?” Maya brushed the bristles at her nape. “Ask me tomorrow.” Later, they took another photograph. Jess asked to touch it. “No,” Maya said, then glanced at the picture. “Send me that one.”
