It started with a single hair in my soup.
My girlfriend loves cooking, so I figured it must’ve been one of hers, but it was too long. Too long to be mine, either.
“Weird,” she said without looking, and went back to her bowl of soup. I didn’t make anything of it, so I just took the hair out and kept eating.
The next morning, I poured myself a bowl of cereal and found… two hairs. One short and brown, the other long and gray. Floating in the milk. I figured sometimes there are mistakes at the factory, and I’m not one to complain, so I fished the hairs out and ate up.
The next day, I went out to eat, and there were four hairs in my burger. All different kinds. I figured this was too weird, and pointed it out to my girlfriend again.
She… didn’t see them. Nobody I pointed it out to did. I don’t think they were lying. It’d be… a weird thing to lie about.
I figured it was just a trick of my imagination, so I said fuck it, and ate the burger, hairs and all. I almost couldn’t taste the difference.
That was twenty days ago.
Yesterday my pad thai had been so covered in hair it was nearly impossible to eat through. The longer hairs got caught in my throat and the shorter ones tickled my tongue. The hair didn’t taste much like anything after covered in the sauce, which was my curse’s only saving grace.
And then… today. My girlfriend decided to make pasta, and while my bizarre curse made eating difficult, I still enjoyed her cooking. I was almost getting used to it, in a perverse way.
I didn’t realize the problem until she set down my plate.
“I hope you like it! I gave you an extra-big helping, since I know you haven’t been eating much recently.”
I stared in horror at the meal ahead of me.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
In front of me sat a single plate, covered in nothing but hair.
Credit: Heather Flowers