Rose gave one nod, picked up her chrome shears, and started cutting around my ears in quick, rhythmic snips.

Dark locks dropped onto the smooth white cape, shaping a tailored pixie cut that framed my cheekbones and showed off the clean line of my jaw.

“Your scalp healed without a mark,” Rose said, smoothing a single drop of scalp oil over the crown with her palms.

“No scars, no thin patches anywhere.”

Rose held a small round hand mirror behind my head so I could see the crisp taper at the nape of my neck.

“Come back every six weeks for a quick trim,” Rose said, flicking a bit of stray hair off my collar with a soft brush.