The horizon exploded with the beautiful hues of gold, crimson, and deep purple as I finished delivering the last commission for the day and dragged my aching feet towards home.

My breath hitched as I saw the green goo that welcomed me in the yard; several droplets on the sand. I followed the offensive goop and found it smeared all over Rambo's reins and saddle, and splattered on Logan's discarded boots, which were left at the entryway. The wood made a loud cracking sound as the door almost flew off its hinges as I entered the workshop, breathless, frantically searching for my husband. The same colored sludge continued inside, sprinkled, marring my pristine hardwood floor, leading up to the mudroom, where I heard the shower running.

I felt the stinging, and I pressed the back of my hand on my eyes.

He's home.

He had been gone for three days with the sheriff, monster hunting. They were tasked to investigate the reports of new monsters that had crossed into Eufaula's borders. The beasts apparently were terrorizing the smaller villages around Sandrock's periphery.

I paced maniacally through the tiny space, waiting; the water stopped, and I listened as the footsteps approached the door.

The air rushed through, and I took in lungfuls; the relief washed over me as I beheld the massive figure who stood, damp, at the open doorway; the towel hung low on his hips, affording me a glimpse of his familiar happy trail, as he violently rubbed his head with the facecloth drying his…

"Your hair." I shrieked.

The room hushed.

His sea-glass blues met my now flickering, turbulent blue-green ones, refusing to settle into one, always both, which were staring at him, questioning.

The floor shifted; wide-eyed, the words dissolved inside my throat as my chest constricted, gazing at the shape of him.

The lines on his face deepened, resulting in a genuine, confused frown, and the wide smile on his lips dissipated, slowly replaced with befuddlement. "What'd?"

"No…no…no…" I mumbled in bewilderment, laced with fury, uttered as if in reverent prayer, as I shook my head. "It's gone…What—What have you done?"

The silence that followed the question now hung weighted.

His shoulders slumped, and he approached, arms outstretched in a bid to wrap me into an embrace, and he cooed, "Oh, darlin'."

A loud exhale left my lips, eyes wide as I withdrew, taking a few steps back until I reached the edge of the counter. The anger wrapped in sadness bubbled over, and I raised my hand, begged, "Stop."

He paused close, but not touching, and I felt the heat that emanated from his skin. The smell of vanilla, soap, with a hint of leather, flooded my senses, and I tilted my head up, and my gaze lingered on his shiny head before meeting his gaze. The dam broke, and the tears stained my cheeks as I asked, my voice barely audible. "Why?"

"The mission, the monster attacked, the green goo stuck to everything, impossible to wash off like gum in my hair…" He cut himself off mid-sentence as he saw the sadness in my eyes, which made his heart spasm, and he apologized, "I'm sorry, darlin'."

My eyes fixated on his head and whispered, "Your hair—"

"It'll grow back."

"It's gone."

The desolation in my voice both amused and broke something inside him.

***

The puffiness in my eyes was evident as my gaze focused on the fire. A momentary distraction from the heat that pooled and vibrated through me, I watched the embers weave themselves in and out of the deadly flame in a dance I knew would end up with them as soot on the base of the hearth by morning.

The cushions beside me dipped and creaked in protest as the heavy figure collapsed into the space, close but not touching. He handed me a cup of tea, my hands tightened around the mug, the warmth, a comfort from the turbulence I felt in my chest. His familiar smell invaded my senses, now mixed with the scent of antiseptic, citrus, and sweat.

"It's done. Darn thin' hard to scrub off like glue stuck to everything." He complained as he repeatedly flexed his hands, trying to relieve the numbness.

I huffed in silent protest.

"Oh, darlin'..."

"I hate it." My tone offered no refute.

"I slayed monsters, saved a few lives, I reckon."

I snapped back, "I don't care. Your hair."

"The green goo wouldn't come off—"

A weak sob escaped me.

'It's just a haircut."

"It's an abomination."

"I'm still handsome."

"You look like an egg."

"A handsome egg."

A hint not exactly of a smile danced at the corner of my lips, but something adjacent to it. He noticed, and a flicker of hope sparked inside him, and he grinned; he reached his thumb, gently brushing the remnants of tears. A relieved sigh escaped him, and he leaned his bald head onto my shoulder.

"It'll grow back."

I visibly shuddered at the feeling of the tiny knives that were now stabbing the nape of my neck.

"Come touch it."

"No."

He took my hands into his, gently massaging my palms with his thumbs, and placed them on top of his head. I imperceptibly trembled as I tentatively grazed the barren landscape, and I slowly ran through the emptiness where I used to card my fingers through his chalk-white, beautiful locks. A precious pout formed as the tiny spines tickled my skin and the tips of my fingers; a whisper of dread cracked down my spine, making the hairs behind my neck stand as I made several passes.

I whispered, "I still hate it."

"But yer love me."

His lips found mine…

In between kisses, I whimpered and sobbed, "It's like kissing a thorny jumper—a prickly pear—an angry marshmallow—"

"He ain't no Rapunzel no more," Andy shouted mockingly from his bedroom on the second floor.

"Not helpin'—Do yer homework."

He chuckled as he tucked me into his impossibly large arms, kissing the top of my head, and he trailed his hand up and down my spine. My entirety melted into his embrace, and he inhaled the shape of me.

"I missed yer, darlin'."

A knock at the door pulled me from my haze, and I gazed at Logan and at the clock which reflected the late hour.

His breath deepened, and his demeanor shifted into the monster hunter as he approached the entryway. I watched him open the door. After a long pause, his laughter reverberated through the walls. My brows knitted as my gaze transfixed on him as he stepped aside, and the silent footsteps of the Sheriff entered.

My eyes widened as my hand instinctively cupped my mouth to stifle a scream, and, or a laugh; I was not entirely sure as I stared at Justice's bald head.