“I have.” He glared at his cup of tea. “Not surprising in a severe illness. Now ask me how she still has any hair left to shed.” I paused with my tea halfway to my lips. “I don’t know,” he said, answering the question anyway. “No goddamn idea. If it’s falling out like that, it shouldn’t be regrowing, but it is.” “Coming in stark white, too,” I said.
BC IT'S NOT HAIRRR IT'S FUNGUS GROWIN FROM HER FUCKIN BRAINNNN
