It wasn’t healthy, getting a haircut now and then was part of people’s everyday lives, but not his. The thought of cutting his hair had him breaking out in cold sweat. It wasn’t normal, but he had to have something—something that was his, something he could control, something to soothe himself with.
With yet another sigh, he went to grab his jacket. There was no use in unpacking anything until he knew if he would survive the first day at work. Not that he had much, constantly moving from one place to another didn’t leave room for trinkets. He’d placed his plants in the windows, it was all he’d managed so far.
Exhaustion curled around his limbs. It was too soon to go out among people, he was still coughing up black lumps, but he didn’t have a choice.
Freaks of nature had to pay their bills like everybody else.
* * * *