The last inch of bow hair I haven't rehaired yet

There's a frayed patch near the tip I keep telling myself I'll fix this week, but every morning I play through it instead. The thinning threads catch the light like a conversation you're not ready to end — you know it's past its best, but you keep bowing because the sound it makes is yours. Today I finally ordered the new hank, but I'm not sure I'll use it right away.