Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
A thick ribbon of his dark brown hair parted instantly. It curled away from the blade and fell in a soft, heavy clump onto the shoulder of his gray wedding vest.
From the tables near the back of the ballroom, a collective intake of breath rose from our guests. I could hear the clatter of a fork hitting a plate, and then the room went entirely quiet again, save for the persistent hum of the machine in my hand.
I did not look at them. I kept my eyes on Mason’s face as I guided the clippers over the crown of his head, following the curve down to the nape of his neck. Another long strip of hair fell, landing near the toe of my white satin shoe.
“You are doing fine,” Mason murmured, his eyes never leaving mine.
I brought the clippers back to the front, starting on the left side of his head. I watched his ear emerge, pale and sharp under the ballroom lights, free of the curls he usually let grow too long in the back.
