What the hell is wrong with you, man? I thought we were cool.”“We were,” Warner says icily. “Until you touched my hair.”“You asked me to give you a haircut—”“I said nothing of the sort! I asked you to trim the edges!”“And that’s what I did.”“This,” Warner says, spinning around so I might inspect the damage, “is not trimming the edges, you incompetent moron—”I gasp. The back of Warner’s head is a jagged mess of uneven hair; entire chunks have been buzzed off.
-Tahereh Mafi
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