As I quicken my pace, my eyes catch on a shop window without even a hint of red or green, or of a single Christmas decoration. Instead of sickening jingle bells, modern lounge music is drifting out from under the glass door.

On impulse, I walk in.

An Asian guy with shoulder-length, platinum-blond hair welcomes me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, dear, but we’re almost closing. Did you have an appointment?”

An appointment? I take in the twin rows of black leather chairs in front of floor-to-ceiling mirror walls and realize I’ve walked into a hair salon.

“No, sorry,” I say. “I just needed a break from all this holiday madness, and your place was so…”

The guy nods understandingly. “We pride ourselves in being the anti-Christmas types. So, my darling fellow Grinch, having a bad day?”

“Horrible.” I walk toward one of the chairs. “Can I sit here for five minutes and breathe some un-festive fresh air?”

“Sure, sure.” He gestures for me to sit, and I don’t know if it’s out of professional habit, but he starts combing his fingers through my hair. “Such a blank canvas,” he says, pulling apart a few locks. “When was the last time you had it trimmed?”

“Honestly? I don’t remember. It’s been a while.”

I like my hair as it is: long, dark, straight. And I haven’t changed my style in forever. If it ain’t broke…

“And are you feeling adventurous today?”

“No, no! Not at all.”

I make to get up, but my host keeps me in place with a gentle pressure on my shoulders.

“Mmm, I’m not sure you’ve walked in here by chance, darling. Sure you’re not ready for a change?”

I’m about to say “no” again, when the question really sinks in. Am I ready for a change? Do I want to keep spending my life pining after my sister’s boyfriend—sorry, fiancé?

No.

Do I want to keep dreading the holidays and every visit home?

No.

So, am I ready for a change?

Hell yeah!

I meet the guy’s eyes in the mirror.

“That’s what I thought.” He smiles knowingly. “I work only by appointment, but I will make an exception for you, little bird.”

“Oh, no. You were about to close, I wouldn’t want to make you stay late. I can come back tomorrow.”

The stylist gives me a piercing stare through the mirror. “You walk out of that door now, honey, and we both know I’ll never see you again.”

He’s right.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Great!” He pats my shoulders. “Now, tell me how much of a radical change you want.”

I lift my chin. “Make me a new woman.”

***