The Haircut Before the New Passport

Before her passport appointment, Amalia booked a haircut she had considered for years. Her husband was surprised; her colleagues said she was brave. She wondered why removing a length of hair required so much public courage. Nevertheless, she carried their reactions into the salon like additional bags and showed the stylist a photograph without quite meeting his eyes.

Halfway through, she wanted to stop. The face in the mirror seemed unfamiliar, although nothing about it had changed. She had imagined looking younger or sharper, perhaps like someone who made decisions without consulting a committee of invisible relatives. Instead, she looked like herself with unfinished hair. The stylist asked about the length, and she told him to continue.

At the photograph booth, the machine rejected her first attempt because she was smiling. Her second expression looked severe. By the fourth, she was annoyed enough to look entirely natural. She submitted that picture and went back to work, prepared for comments. Most people were busy. One colleague asked whether she had brought the figures for the afternoon meeting.

That evening, Amalia sent the salon photograph to her sister, who replied that the style reminded her of their grandmother. So much for becoming someone entirely new. Amalia studied the image again and saw the resemblance, particularly around the mouth. She liked it more than she expected. The following morning, washing her hair took less time, which turned out to be the clearest change of all.