Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
The hum of the second set of clippers in Mason’s hand started up, a slightly higher pitch that vibrated against my own.
He reached up, his fingers gently finding the first hairpins in my hair. He slid them out one by one, dropping them onto the floor where they made tiny, metallic clinks against the oak wood. My long brown hair tumbled down, hot and heavy against my neck, spreading over the lace shoulders of my dress.
“Are you ready?” he asked, holding the second pair of clippers near my forehead.
“Well, we didn’t buy two sets of clippers just to do one of us,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
He smiled, a quick, familiar tuck of his lips, and lifted his hand.
The metal teeth of his clippers touched my forehead, just above my left eyebrow. The sensation was cold at first, then a strange, light tickle as the vibration traveled through the bone of my skull.