Indescribable. It was an unpredictable push and pull between the two of you, a magnetic confusion that neither could truly understand. Simon had always been impossibly sweet with you, lulling you into moments of warmth, making you feel so special, only to destroy the loving bubble by making it clear he was still tired to other women.

A bad habit he fought so hard.

There was one thing he specifically adored about you, a quiet, tender intimacy in the way his fingers would slide through your long hair.

He’d run his hands trough the strands, as if each touch could soothe the storm in his silent heart. It was an unspoken tenderness, laced with secret affection, a silent gesture that spoke louder than any of the words he ever uttered.

But as much as your heart felt drawn to him, there was something that made you want to escape from his grasp, to snap the connection, have your senses come to peace, and your heart protected from the constant hurt of hearing him in the company of other women — how were you supposed to ever find the anchor to stabilize the situation?

And one afternoon, with a determined decision, you cut your hair short. All the strands, laced with painful memories, lay on the cold tiles of your bathroom. Hoping it’d be enough to finally cut the ties, to force distance from him, to make the hurt of his infidelity easier to bear.

By chance, by fate, after weeks of not hearing from him, Simon stopped in his tracks when he saw you amidst the beautiful Christmas lights of the city’s streets. How long has it been since he last saw you and held you in his arms? Yet your transformation was immediate, a sharp slap and contrast to the person he once knew and had for himself.

Your hair, once full and long, now barely grazed your shoulders, sharpening your features.

Then all the memories flooded his mind; his fingers caressing your hair during the most vulnerable nights, leaving the stamp of his heart and soul to you. “What did you do?” He spoke, words soft, almost regretful. “I loved your long hair.”