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Jarod doesn't remember his father taking him to the barber every fourth Sunday, nor does he remember the barber's deep voice and warm laugh. Jarod forgets that he liked the orange best of the lollipops in the glass jar on the counter, forgets that one afternoon he chose the cherry instead, his last candy for twenty years, forgets his tongue stained red in the mirror.
He does remember, months later, brushing his bangs from his forehead during a simulation and spending the evening in an uncomfortable chair, Sydney lecturing him about distraction and a silent, unsmiling man cutting his hair.
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