6 | coming back

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coming back


"The blue suits you." Camille, the young hairdresser with silver-purple hair and tattooed neck, smiles at me in the mirror, her dark brown fingers brushing through my hair once more. "It brings out the blue in your eyes."

I keep staring at the reflection of myself, eyes firmly planted on the tips of my blond hair, now vividly blue, and barely reaching to my shoulders. This is the new me. No more lies. No more of being nearly unrecognizable from Sarah.No more of letting Brad to brush away the topic of my mother. And certainly no more moping over things I have no power to change.This is the new me.

If only change would be that easy.


"Yeah, it does." The words taste weird on my tongue. I'm not accustomed to receiving compliments, and I'm certainly not used to admitting them myself. But this is different.I'm not sure if I made the right decision, but I guess I would never get to find out if I didn't play on the spontaneity, stopping at the nearest salon on my way from the Point Dune beach. It might seem a bit hasty, and honestly, I'm not sure what spurred the sudden need for change, but I do not regret it. And I won't regret it tomorrow either. I refuse to live my life based on the fear of the opinions of others.


Sliding a black lock of hair behind her ear, Camille leans against the small table beside her. "Wanna shave one of the sides?"


Letting go of the fear. But . . . I'm still not brave enough to shave a side of my head. "Uh, no, thanks." I decline politely, pushing up off the white leather chair. I'm not there yet, no matter how freeing that would feel. "Maybe next time?" Or never? Who knows how the future will unfold? I can barely grasp the sense of reality happening right now.


"Sure," nonchalantly, she shrugs her wide shoulders, snatching the coverall wrapped around my front with unexpectedly swift movement. "I'll take your word for it."


It doesn't take more than few minutes to pay for my make-over and it's not long before I'm stepping out, onto the heated concrete of the street.


The sun can still be felt in the air, the pleasant warmth covering me like a blanket, even though the big blazing fireball ascended down, transforming into a bright orange sunset. Despite the heat, cold wind threads through my hair, tangling the now shoulder-length wisps of blue-blond all over one another. It's not unlikely for the pelting rain to hit the ground soon, judging by the heavy purplish clouds gathering above my head.


I should hurry if I don't want to get caught in the storm.


Turning in the direction I have parked Rose's battered truck, I'm hit with another rippling wave of feeling like my luck has run out today.


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