Heavy Thoughts

Flash Fiction

Heavy Thoughts

On my way to work thinking about how many times I’d gone down Downey Street. Twice a day, weekdays for work. Add anytime I had to hit the grocery store, just down the street from work. I can’t do it before work because I’d need to leave the groceries in the car, so couldn’t buy anything that needed refrigeration.

I used to go to the photo shop there in the old days. But, of course, you don’t need to take your pictures to somewhere to get developed anymore. That space is now a hair salon. Something I never use. Not that I don’t need it, just that at my age I could care less if my hair looks good to other people. It’s clean and combed, enough for me!

As I had this thought, I remembered we were having pictures taken at work next week. They update every two years. Last time my photo looked like I just got out of bed… Maybe I should try it out…

The shop was past my work building. I actually went and parked in front of the salon, forgetting this kind of business does not open at seven like my work… But I got a glimpse of the hairdo’s they do. They were really lovely, though every picture was of a probably, eighteen-year-old, it seems… I passed eighteen many eons ago. I wrote their number on my pad, thinking I’d call later.

At work finally, I still had the hair salon in mind. Consequently, I started actually looking at co-worker’s hairdo’s as they came and went throughout the day.

By the day’s end I gave up on the idea. Almost every woman over thirty had hair just like mine… clean and combed! Frankly, I blended right in! It made my day.