Short hair
“How is my new hair style?” She asked me, turning her head left and right in slightly slow motion to let me have a good look at it. Very short hair, like boy cut, but she has got long fringe that she brushed to one side of her forehead.
“Hmmm, that is quite short, right.” I answered. It didn’t sound like answer at all, more like a question, but the question itself sounded like a detour and finally it back to me again.
“Oh, I have forgotten. You like girl with long hair.” She remembered it as a matter of fact. Like something perfectly ordinary that came into her mind as she was suggesting it.
I never said anything. The noise of passing crowd filtered into our conversation space. The street of China Town was packed with awful lots of people, where do all these people come from? It is Tuesday; don’t they need to work or something? And the traffic noise continued buzzing along the busy three lane street way, never a second there was silent.
“Anyway, I like my hairstyle now. It makes me look tough. In my profession, I need to be tough so people think twice if they want to get into your way.” She said, fingers holding the straw that connected to the bottle of sugar-free Soya milk, then she introduced a gentle whirlpool into the bottle. She strained a curl on her lips but not smiling kind of curl.
“Yeah, it certainly does have the effect. You know, the kind of hair style that keeps people away. It looks sharp on you though.”
“Sharp?” She raised her eyebrows and look at me.
“A better word, it looks sophisticated.” I said, after thinking for a while, searching for the right vocabulary in my mind.
“What is another word?” She asked. A couple walked passes our table and from their back, an easy guess would have said that they were in the middle of an argument, for some minor or insignificance issue I guess. Most young couples are into that nowadays. I was redirected back after a moment.
And I thought for a while, considered not to say it. However I went against it. “Look like you might put something onto people’s back.” I half joked. As the words came out, it didn’t sound like a joke but a dead serious opinion and criticism.
“Oh no, I’m not.” She explained, oblivious to my humor. She was obviously taken aback at my comment.
“I was just joking. I know you wouldn’t do it. That is for sure.”
“Of course, now I realized you really don’t like my hairstyle.”
“Yeah, to tell the truth, I really don’t like it.” I shook my head and looked at her in eyes.
“It’s okay though, it’s you and your long hair girl’s thingy. Luckily I’m not your girl friend.” She said and lifted her shoulder a bit. Continued to stir on the drink that almost gone to the bottom.
I told her the same thing that she just spoke to me, and apparently we thought about the same thing at the same time. I stared into the opposite street where there was an old man collecting tin cans from the floor and rubbish bin. He smashed them under his frail feet before throwing the crashed cans into a rugged bag that he brought along. I watched him as he slowly moved along the opposite street and disappeared, leaving the street without empty tin cans.
“Hmmm, that is quite short, right.” I answered. It didn’t sound like answer at all, more like a question, but the question itself sounded like a detour and finally it back to me again.
“Oh, I have forgotten. You like girl with long hair.” She remembered it as a matter of fact. Like something perfectly ordinary that came into her mind as she was suggesting it.
I never said anything. The noise of passing crowd filtered into our conversation space. The street of China Town was packed with awful lots of people, where do all these people come from? It is Tuesday; don’t they need to work or something? And the traffic noise continued buzzing along the busy three lane street way, never a second there was silent.
“Anyway, I like my hairstyle now. It makes me look tough. In my profession, I need to be tough so people think twice if they want to get into your way.” She said, fingers holding the straw that connected to the bottle of sugar-free Soya milk, then she introduced a gentle whirlpool into the bottle. She strained a curl on her lips but not smiling kind of curl.
“Yeah, it certainly does have the effect. You know, the kind of hair style that keeps people away. It looks sharp on you though.”
“Sharp?” She raised her eyebrows and look at me.
“A better word, it looks sophisticated.” I said, after thinking for a while, searching for the right vocabulary in my mind.
“What is another word?” She asked. A couple walked passes our table and from their back, an easy guess would have said that they were in the middle of an argument, for some minor or insignificance issue I guess. Most young couples are into that nowadays. I was redirected back after a moment.
And I thought for a while, considered not to say it. However I went against it. “Look like you might put something onto people’s back.” I half joked. As the words came out, it didn’t sound like a joke but a dead serious opinion and criticism.
“Oh no, I’m not.” She explained, oblivious to my humor. She was obviously taken aback at my comment.
“I was just joking. I know you wouldn’t do it. That is for sure.”
“Of course, now I realized you really don’t like my hairstyle.”
“Yeah, to tell the truth, I really don’t like it.” I shook my head and looked at her in eyes.
“It’s okay though, it’s you and your long hair girl’s thingy. Luckily I’m not your girl friend.” She said and lifted her shoulder a bit. Continued to stir on the drink that almost gone to the bottom.
I told her the same thing that she just spoke to me, and apparently we thought about the same thing at the same time. I stared into the opposite street where there was an old man collecting tin cans from the floor and rubbish bin. He smashed them under his frail feet before throwing the crashed cans into a rugged bag that he brought along. I watched him as he slowly moved along the opposite street and disappeared, leaving the street without empty tin cans.
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