The young woman sat quietly in the barbershop chair, her hands clasped together in her lap, knuckles whitening under the pressure. The rhythmic hum of the clippers in the background seemed to echo the racing of her own heart, a constant mechanical drone that never faltered, never gave pause. She tried to steady herself, brushing her hands gently over her knees, inhaling and exhaling as if the motion could calm the storm inside her chest. Yet, no matter how deliberately she…
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