I finally arrived to the Barbershop. In front of me stands the barber. When I first see him, I think that there is nothing wrong with him, but when he pulls his razor knife, and starts sharpening it, my emotions suddenly changed; my legs started to shiver a little. I tried to conceal my emotions by relaxing, and hoping that he would not find out. Afterwards, I took off my belt with my gun on it and hung my hat on the wall hook to act like everything is normal.
Furthermore, as I sat down, he started to get ready; he prepared the soap and dipped his razor knife in it. As his cold silver razor-edged knife touches my skin steadily, I was thinking about “Is he going to hurt or kill me by any chance?” over and over again. I started to panic when he started to talk to me, so I carefully answered his questions while concealing my emotions. As he shaves slowly, precisely, and accurately, I started to relax myself and close my eyes.
After a while of shaving, I am starting to feel horrified and afraid of dying. I continuously thought of the barber slicing my neck, ending up it squirting out blood like a water fountain, and me lying down on the floor like a dead dog.
As he talks more about my job, which is executing and punishing people, I began to suspect that he is going to kill me soon because if he kills me, then he will be the hero for the rebels. But as I think clearly and deeply, I figured out that his job is not to kill me, and also, killing me would get him into a huge trouble.
Finally, the barber is finished with shaving my beard; I swiped it to make sure that it is smooth. As I leave, I paid him some good money and said, “They told me that you’d kill me. I came to find out. But killing isn’t easy. You can take my word for it.” And I turned and walked away. I said that because I wanted to scare him and show him how brave I am.
