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Howie Good |
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Police and Questions |
Haircut |
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There’s no wait this early. I hang up my coat and climb into the chair. He flips a gold barber’s drape over me with a practiced twist of his wrists. I’ve known him a long time, 22 years, ever since we moved to town. Talking to my reflection in the mirror, he says they’ve found a spot on his pancreas. He asks what the pancreas does. I try to remember from 10th grade biology. My wife, he starts to say, but stops and shakes his head, and then the only sound is the bonelike clicking of the dancing scissors.
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