My barber lost his legs in Korea. He will only do one of the ten styles shown on the ancient poster taped above the cash register. He stares at nothing while I make my decision, which takes forever. I finally settle on The Junior Executive and am immediately filled with buyer’s remorse. He uses a straight razor on my sideburns and I get a good close look at his tobacco-stained fingers. You ever nick someone with that thing? I ask, my voice cold. Only when they ask stupid questions, he says.