He Never Deserved My Long Hair

Summary

Six years. That’s how long Nicky and I had been a "we."

He’d tossed a ring at me like it was an afterthought, a piece of scrap metal he’d found in his pocket. "Take it," he’d said. "And get your hair cut this weekend. My mom likes girls with short hair. It looks cleaner."

So, on Saturday, I wore that plain gold band with a heart full of hope. I sat in a sleek, overpriced salon and waited until the "Closed" sign flipped over and the stylists began sweeping the floor. He never showed.