The Night Eleanor Switched On the Clippers Was the Night Three Years of House Payments Came to an End

The lock slid into the frame with a solid, quiet click.

I walked down the silent hall into the bathroom and switched on the vanity lights over the mirror.

The silver electric clippers were gone for good, sealed in an evidence locker at the Oak Park police station.

I looked past the white porcelain sink and straight into the bathroom mirror.

My reflection looked back at me, calm and steady, in the dark blazer, my neatly styled hair sitting thick and strong above my forehead.

I touched the soft hairline at my temple with my fingertips and felt the firm skin underneath.

I smiled at the composed woman looking back at me, whole and unburdened in the quiet room.

“I paid for everything,” I whispered into the silence, “right up until the night I finally chose myself.”