I make a mental note to buy more color depositing conditioner. Sometimes it’s shampoo. But I think the conditioner works better.
“Shit.”
I hiss and check the phone. I’m late and I don’t have time to order it now. I sigh, aggravated for no good reason.
I know coming back to my home state means having to stay incognito. But it makes me angry. It’s just one more thing I miss about my old life.
My natural hair color, I mean. It’s dark brown, like chestnuts, and I have gold and reddish highlights. It’s also wavy and long, hanging down to the middle of my back when loose.
But ever since I came back to New Jersey to be closer to my mother, I’ve been straightening it and using the most natural hair coloring treatment I can find.
I don’t want to dye it. Nothing so permanent as that.
I walk out of the shitty little basement apartment I’m renting, and I groan.
“Why is it so fucking hot?” I mutter and start fanning myself.