Seven grinned, flicked his scissors open, and stepped out into the July sun. “Good. Because this season—I’m gonna cut so much hair. And maybe a few villains. We’ll see.”
The woman slid an envelope across the counter. Inside: a single, translucent coin. Ghost money. Scissor Seven -2018-2018
“It’s all I have,” she said. “Please. I just want to look nice for my mother’s memory.” Seven grinned, flicked his scissors open, and stepped