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told three separate neighbors, “My hair is growing wild because dragons don’t do salons.”
By Christmas, she let me trim the uneven ends.
She sat on the bathroom stool, very still.
“Are you scared?” I asked.
“A little.”
“We don’t have to.”
“No,” she said. “I want you to do it.”
So I trimmed less than half an inch. She watched every move in the mirror. When continue reading …
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