We fell back into routine the night I came home.
“You cut your hair again.”
I leaned into your neck. “Mmm. Could have been shorter at the sides.” For the first time in a long time, my hair doesn’t fall across my face when I hover over you, it doesn’t get trapped in between my lips when hair whips across and there had been no hair to push out of my face. Perhaps a stray fringe to be tucked behind the ear but apart from that, my hair is just like yours, maybe slightly longer.
That night you grabbed my hair because there had been little that you could weave your fingers into to thread down slowly. It’s always a case of 舍不得 for you but sometimes, even I don’t know what is it that you’re missing.