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Change Your Hair, the sign read, And Change Your Life!

So I walked in and got a haircut.

It looked good, too. Damn good. I snapped a few selfies in the parking lot, but they didn’t look as good as I expected. Something was still missing. I decided I could use some new lipstick to go with the new haircut. And, what the hell, why not a new purse too?

I went next door, to the department store, and found myself some new lipstick. Bright red. It looked good. I got some red heels to match, and some sexy new jeans to go with the heels. I threw my old loafers and pinstripe slacks into the trash can on the department store’s sidewalk, then caught the bus and took it to the train station.

There was an ATM at the train station, right by the Starbucks. I got a large vanilla frappuccino and withdrew everything I had in my savings account.

You can’t withdraw too much at one time, of course, so I kept going back. I tried a white chocolate mocha with sprinkles next, and then a caramel macchiato. The ATM spat twenty dollar bills, which I stuffed into my new, red purse. After my heart started to race from the caffeine, I switched to a decaf green tea smoothie. It took a couple of hours, but eventually I got everything out of my bank. By then I’d had plenty of time to study the Amtrack route maps.

I went to the ticket counter and bought a one-way to Miami, which is as far south as you can get on a train. Before boarding, I threw my empty decaf green tea smoothie cup and the keys to my office into the trash can on the platform.

Once the train slipped past Baltimore, I called Brian, my boyfriend, and dumped him. Actually, I he didn’t even answer his phone. I left a voicemail. It’s cool. Even now I’m sure he was cheating on me.

By that time the sun was setting, so I got up and walked to the dining car to buy myself dinner and a little half-bottle of white wine. On the way I stopped between cars, right where the sign says Do Not Stand, and dropped my cell phone onto the tracks.

Clackity-clack, said the track.

Don’t look back.

From Miami I kept going south, hitching rides until I made it here, to Key West. I tended bar for a couple of years, which was a good job. Never had to get up early, never had to explain myself. It was easy enough to find a place to live, and you don’t have to worry about things like heating down here. Hell, if you’re flexible, you don’t have to worry about a lot of things down here.

The bar got old after a while, of course, what with all those alcoholics, and the overweight middle aged men with a white tan line where they’d slipped off their wedding rings trying to grab my ass. So I enrolled in beauty school, and now here I am, running my very own hair salon.

Come right in, because I can tell you, I’ve got just the thing for you.

You do know what they say, right?

Change Your Hair, And Change Your Life!

* * *

Yes, I just got a haircut. And yes, I celebrated with some flash fiction. Sadly, I’m not writing this from Key West.

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