When Jelly Roll finally shaved the beard he had carried for years, the moment felt far bigger than grooming.
As the hair slipped into the sink, it felt like he was shedding a final piece of the man who once used facial hair as armor. The beard had not simply been a style choice. It had been a shield against the shame and exhaustion that came with living in a body that no longer felt like home. Inside that small bathroom the hum of the clippers sounded like a countdown.
With each careful sweep across his face, the reflection in the mirror shifted. He looked less like the version of himself he had survived and more like the one he had worked so hard to grow into. The transformation felt intimate and unannounced, a private ritual marking the end of one era and the start of another.
