“Much better.” My mother’s voice grates on me. “I’ll still need at least another hour to put color back in. This is only the first step,” a woman I don’t recognize says. They must be the stylist. My strides eat the distance between me and the open bathroom door when I realize exactly what they mean. My mother and an unknown woman stand next to each other in the cramped space. But it’s Misty that has my attention. She’s sitting on the edge of the tub, her eyes like voids as she stares at the wall, muted pale blond hair brushing her shoulders.
WTAF??? OH HELL NAH AIN’T NO WAY
