"I want to see myself," he said, gesturing to a photo of a sharp, masculine fade.

Walking home that night, the city lights reflected in the puddles. Leo didn't look away from his reflection in the shop windows. He stood a little taller, his shoulders square under his denim jacket. The story he had been writing in his head for years was finally moving past the prologue. For the first time, Leo wasn't just observing his life—he was living it.

One rainy Tuesday, Leo decided to stop hiding. He walked into a small, sun-drenched barber shop in the city. The air smelled of peppermint and talcum powder. When the barber asked what he wanted, Leo took a deep breath.