Andrew Stark’s beard glides over Trevor Snow’s scalp as he kneels behind him, fingers working through thick, dark hair while the other man sits rigid in the chair. The mirror shows Trevor’s head tilted back, his jaw tight as Stark’s strokes press deeper, each pass deliberate and rough. Their reflections lock in the glass, one man focused on the task, the other still, waiting. The only sound is the scrape of a brush against hair, slow and unhurried.
