She put on her favorite sweater, gathered her last strength, and went to the barbershop, where men with tough looks always worked — tattoos, earrings, and stern faces. But she knew: behind that exterior was kindness. They had always treated her warmly, as she had been going there for many years.

When she walked in, the men immediately sensed that something had changed. She sat down in the chair, hugged herself with her arms, and said in a trembling voice:

— “Guys… my hair is falling out. It’s… because of the chemo. I can’t take it anymore. Please shave it all off.”

The barbershop fell silent. No one dared to joke, as they usually did. The barber, her longtime friend, simply nodded, turned on the clippers, and the buzzing filled the room.