“What did you say Eugene did now?” I ask Zel, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. 

“He went ahead and cut my hair short, see—”

Oh, I saw. 

“What did we talk about setting boundaries, Zel?” My temper flares up at the sight of the poor girl. “You know what, scratch that. When he cut your hair, how did that make you feel?” 

I see many clients who lose all sense of themselves and are absolutely smitten once “love” comes into their life. It’s absolutely madness. Though I see this happen over and over again, it’s still surprising each time.  

“Well, I was shocked at first,” Zel stutters as she speaks. Oh, how I notice the stutter. “But then when I found out why he did it, I was kind of okay with that. Besides, I like it short.” She squeaks at that last sentence. 

I stare at her dumbfounded, what in the world has happened to her? She was 90% hair and now 100% of it was gone. 

“Okay, Zel. That’s very good of you to take a positive outlook on this whole catastrophe.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a catastrophe—”

“You’re right,” I burst out laughing. “It’s a disaster.” 

“I Wouldn’t—”

“I would,” I say and scribble on my notebook, nearly scratching a hole into the page. “Shall we book a session with both you and Mr. Fitzherbert?” 

“Would that be necessary?” She asks with genuine surprise in her tone.

“Oh it is absolutely critical at this point I would say.” I smile through gritted teeth, biting hard on enamel. “We don’t want to get into any more toxic relationships like your foster mom, do we?”

Zel shakes her head, looking concerned at the prospect. Finally, she understands. 

“I’ll be sure to bring him in next time.” 

I breathe a sigh of relief now that the girl is talking some sense. Poor soul, what has that monster done to her hair? 

“Love” I scoff to myself. “What a farce.”