MINDLESS CHATTER

MiJin Cho

I am from the mindless chatter of Korean hair salons. The lady with the fading bob whizzes her scissors by my ears with dispassionate snips, more curious about my own life than the mid-length cut I requested. She questions my future, my plans for the next 30 years, forcing me to narrate a life more certain than I’ve ever truly lived.

Worthy of listening! She says.

But she is a cruel aunt, for she doesn't really care. Why would she–I’m not her true family. She fills my void with stories of other grandiose and not-so-grandiose customers. The 24-year-old young man who requested a shaved head. So that he can kneel before his father to confess his drop, from medical school.

To do culinary school, of all things!

Another had been a 26-year-old ex-trainee, now working in her own dancing studio. Oh how her body barely touched the seat! She says. The girl floated, so thin, so beautiful, so youthful.

She unconsciously rests the scissors on the pudge of her midsection, but quick is she to remove it. Ignore the aftermath of childbirth, of 50-hour work weeks. Stories, they fill her up more than the discounted bread from the bakery next door. Her stories drip of the credulous and the shock worthy as snippets of my own story become mixed into them.