I watched him approach , dressed in Armani , with a gold Rolex on his wrist and five hundred quid shoes on his feet . A natural BHole , he had to be . What he was doing here was anyone ' s guess . How did this guy even hear about me . I hear you ' re the guy who can help people . He whispered . It was a fucking alleyway , and he was whispering out of the side of his mouth like he thought he was in a movie . Yeah , I replied noncommitedly . Maybe I can , maybe I can ' t . Depends on the problem . He looked terrified . Visibly shaking . I would have taken pity on him . But with that colour , he must live a charmed life . Anything he wanted , given to him on a golden platter all his life . There was a reason ordinary people called them BHoles and it wasn ' t because it was short for Black Hole , a shade so dark that no light could escape . What could he be scared of really . He probably had a bodyguard to protect him , some ashpole muscleman standing by his car round the corner . I ' m . I ' m losing my hair , he whispered , so quiet I could barely hear him . I was somewhat surprised . I looked more closely at his jetblack mop , cut in the traditional Japanese style , straight , glossy , like a pool of oil on his head . Beautiful . If you liked BHoles that was . Personally I preferred a bit of honey , so much less work . I couldn ' t see anything wrong with his deck , but then he would be trying whatever he could to hide it . Hair loss was a terrifying thing for anyone . A little bit was no big deal . Even if you just lost your top but the sides were okay people didn ' t consider it too shocking , though people generally hid it under a hat in public . People would look at you in sympathy , sharing your anxiousness that you may lose it entirely . The terror was always that it would progress to the point that you ' d go entirely bald . As smooth as an egg . And without any hair at all ? Well , it was hard to live with . The embarrassment was enough to drive most people into depression , often suicide . To live without your most important , most personal body part , the one part of you that reflected your character most fully . It was like losing an arm . It was worse . No woman would look at you with anything other than pity . You ' d struggle to get a job . For fuck ' s sake , which toilet would you use if you didn ' t even have a Grade ? But to worry so much when I couldn ' t even see a patch on his crown . I was thinking I was dealing with a hypochondriac . A nutjob . I was ready to make an excuse and leave when he looked around him quickly and then drawing close , like a spy in a film , he reached up and grabbed hold of his jetblack hair and lifted it fully off his head . I hissed , an involuntary indraw of breath that surprised me in the hushed quiet of the alley . He dropped the wig back onto his head as quickly as he had lifted it . Beads of sweat were running down his forehead , but he was staring at me with such a pathetic expression of desperate hope that I felt my stomach drop . I ' d realised , even before he dropped the wig back down . There was nothing I could do for him . Dude , I said . Man I couldn ' t think of what to say . I don ' t think I ' d ever literally been speechless before . It was an interesting experience . Can you help ? he whispered . Please . His voice was close to tears . I ' ll pay you anything . Anything at all . The guy was done . Long done . Maybe I could have helped at the start , I knew people who said they had products that could help with this , though I ' d never seen it for myself . Maybe it was bullshit , but I could have given him help , put him in touch with one of my guys . But now . There was nothing I ' d heard of that could do anything for him now . Whoever he ' d got to do his wig had to be a master of his craft . Even with my professional eye I hadn ' t spotted it . But how long could he keep this up ? With women , with drunken business parties , with going to saunas , swimming baths , yachts ? He must live in constant terror of being found out . To wear a wig was the ultimate taboo , not just dying your own hair but literally wearing someone else ' s ? It was like wearing someone else ' s face . Worse . Someone ' s face didn ' t represent them as much as their hair did . And underneath ? It was almost completely gone . How long had he been hiding this ? I ' d heard stress sometimes made people ' s hair fall out quickly , but how much stress could this guy have been under ? With his money , his position ? It must have been going on for a while . I couldn ' t imagine what he must have gone through . I ' mI ' m sorry . I said , almost whispering as quietly as he ' d been . His face stayed with that puppydog expression for a second while he registered what I had said . Then it crumpled , in such a sudden , complete collapse that it almost made my eyes well up for him there and then . I said some other things . Apologies , clichd platitudes , making out it wasn ' t that bad . He didn ' t believe me obviously . Why would he . He had mirrors . I don ' t know if he even heard me . He staggered off back down the alley to his car , looking like he was walking to his death . It was a couple of weeks later I think . I saw his picture in the paper . A few lines . Grieving family . List of accomplishments . It said nothing about his hair .