Description
A trimmed strand of hair can never be brought back to its original length instantly. Her scissors yapped like a shark as she repeatedly snapped it open and close. She then laid her eyes on the mirror, which was bearing her reflection. Cold warmth was beginning to envelope her, but she heaved a deep sigh to calm herself. Then, she brought her head closer to her mirror. Excited yet uncertain, she began the procedure of cutting her fringes, strictly keeping in mind the instructions dictated by her source online blog. Shortly, the blades of her scissors reached the last strand to cut, and so she placed the instrument back to her table. She closed her eyes as the remaining newly cut strands fell down. Fright, nervousness, and excitement quickly wrapped her chest, and the thumping inside it intensified. She bit her lower lip and clenched her fists, and after heaving another sigh, gradually lifted her eyelids. "Oh. My. Gosh ..." For minutes, she just kept staring at her new bangs in silence, admiring how perfect it turned out. Its tips landed beautifully just below her eyebrows, the ideal length for it. It was not cut in a straight horizontal, but rather in a smooth convex, shaping her face into a smaller oval instead of harshly squaring it. The numbers of strands were also not too much, leaving a faint peek on her forehead. She gave herself a pat on the shoulder for doing a great job on following the instructions properly. Indeed, everything will certainly be fine as long as rules are followed. "I hope he'll like it . . ."
Prologue
