Just a little off the crescent, please.
The Late Appointment
Edwin was sweeping beneath the last chair when a curl of light slipped through his open window.
It hung beside the mirror, turned once at the end, and waited.
He looked outside.
The crescent moon had lowered itself above the little yard behind his shop. One long curl trailed from its lower point. Smaller wisps stood out along the edge.
“Have you time?” it asked.
Edwin leaned his broom against the wall.
“For a trim.”
“That’s all I want.”
“How much off?”
“Just the untidy bits. Leave the long curl.”
Edwin looked from the window to the bright sweep above his roof.
He took his scissors from the drawer.
Keep That One
The moon waited while he fetched the ladder.
“Here?” Edwin asked, resting its top against the smooth white curve.
“A little to the left. That tickles.”
He moved it. The moon held still, and Edwin climbed until his apron caught a pale wash of light.
Up close, he could see the loose ends more clearly. One fine strand had curled back on itself. Another stuck out beside the long lock the moon wanted to keep.
“This much?”
He held a stray between two fingers.
“Yes. That much.”
The scissors closed with a small, familiar click.
A white crescent of clipping turned beneath them, falling slowly towards the yard.
“Oh,” said the moon. “Could I have those?”
“The cuttings?”
“If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Of course.”
Edwin climbed down and fetched a sheet of wrapping paper. The little curl lay shining beside the bottom rung. He picked it up and placed it in the middle of the paper, then spread the sheet beneath the ladder for the rest.
When he climbed back, the moon was waiting exactly where he had left it.
“Ready?”
“Except that one.”
“The long curl. I remember.”
A Little at a Time
Edwin worked along the uneven edge, taking only the ends that stood away from the curve.
The ladder gave a quiet creak beneath his shoes. Cool light lay across his sleeves. Below him, each clipping settled on the paper with scarcely enough weight to move it.
He came to the last stray.
For a moment, it lay against the long curl. He separated them gently with the back of his comb.
“This is the one I’m cutting.”
“Yes,” said the moon.
A final click.
Edwin lowered his scissors.
He climbed down and stepped back across the yard. Above the roof, the crescent held its clean edge, with the long curl still turning beneath it.
The moon tilted slightly.
“Does it look finished?”
“Yes.”
“Still like me?”
Edwin looked once more.
“Very much.”
The curl made a small, pleased loop.
He gathered the four corners of the paper and folded them round the cuttings. A little light showed through each crease.
“I’ll leave these on the windowsill for you.”
“Thank you.”
Edwin carried the ladder back to the shed. When he returned, the moon was already rising above the chimney, its long curl following after it.
Something Left Behind
Inside, Edwin put his comb away and wiped the blades of his scissors.
The shop had grown dim again.
He reached for the lamp, then noticed the soft glow on the windowsill.
The little parcel was still there.
Edwin picked it up.
Outside, the yard lay empty. He looked past the roof, but the moon had moved beyond the chimney.
He was considering whether to leave the parcel in the window when a narrow curl of light came slowly down the wall.
It found the sill and paused.
Edwin held out the packet.
“Your cuttings.”
The curl slipped beneath the paper and lifted it, carefully, over the frame.
“Anything else?” he asked.
The moon’s voice came from somewhere above the roof.
“Same time next month?”
Edwin opened his appointment book.
A thin white tip appeared at the window again.
“Just a trim.”
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