“You look tired today,” said Sam, the barber, as he ran the comb through Leo’s hair. The warm smell of and old wood filled the quiet . Outside, the lazy Sunday sun made the streets . Leo, the market , nodded but kept his eyes on the mirror. He had a that weighed on him like a stone.
"Is everything okay?" Sam asked, his . Leo , then whispered, "I think she may leave town soon." The words felt sharp in the calm afternoon air. Sam set down his tools and leaned forward, his voice low, "You need to tell her before it’s too late." The barbershop shifted; even the clock seemed louder.
Leo looked away, the sound of children playing outside mixing with the buzz of the old radio. He wanted to take the , to be , but held him back. After a moment, he smiled . "Maybe this Sunday, I will bite the bullet." The secret still sat heavy, but the hope in his heart grew a little brighter with the fading sun.
