That morning, Nora had checked her wedding bag three times.

Her shoes were inside. So were the comb, a small sewing kit, and the handwritten vows she had rewritten until the paper looked too tired to bring to the ceremony.

Her fiancé, Ben, had watched from the bedroom doorway.

“You know we can still get married if the emergency sewing kit stays home.”

“It has safety pins.”

“Then I take it back. Essential equipment.”

She had laughed and kissed him before leaving.

The salon appointment was supposed to take less than an hour. Her usual stylist had become ill, and Willow Street Salon had offered a last minute opening.

Nora had been clear when she booked.

A trim only. No change in shape. Wedding tomorrow.

The receptionist repeated it back to her.

When Nora arrived, Kelly had barely looked up from her phone.

“You’re the bride.”

“Yes.”

“What are we doing?”

“One inch from the ends. Nothing else.”

Kelly lifted a section of Nora’s hair.

“You have a lot of length.”

“I know. I need it for tomorrow.”

Nora had shown her a photograph of the planned hairstyle. Kelly studied it briefly.

“That’s very traditional.”

“It’s what I want.”

“You could do something more interesting.”

“After the wedding, maybe. Today, just the trim.”

Kelly smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

“Fine.”

Nora had mistaken that word for agreement.

Now, sitting beneath the cape, she remembered the little details she had ignored. Kelly turning her chair slightly toward the phone. Asking whether Nora had considered “a real transformation,” and sounding irritated when Nora repeated the limit.

The receptionist approached carefully.

“Is everything all right?”

“No,” Nora said.

Kelly spoke over her.

“She’s upset because she hasn’t seen the finished result.”

Nora held up the severed lock.

“I asked for one inch. Does this look like one inch?”

The receptionist’s expression changed.

“What did you ask for in the booking?”

“Please read the note.”

Kelly reached for the trolley.

“We don’t need to turn this into paperwork.”

Nora looked straight at her.

“We needed paperwork before you decided my answer didn’t matter.”