“I’m not obsessed. I’m simply sitting behind it.”
“You’re jealous. When was the last time you had hair like this? Fifty years ago?”
My hair is short and silver now, and I don’t miss the old kind.
I raised three children and buried a husband, and I’m not apologizing for a single year.
“Actually, I had rather lovely hair during the Reagan administration.”
“Eight hundred dollars.”
She laughed. “See? Ancient history.”
Then the lunch cart arrived.
The flight attendant’s badge said Kelly.
Brittany flung her hair back to take a selfie with her tray, and the ends went straight into my rice.
“Excuse me! Your hair is in my lunch.”
She didn’t even turn. “Then don’t eat it.”
Then the lunch cart arrived.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Problem solved.”
“Not quite. I would like to eat the rest of it.”
“Lady, you’re making a huge deal out of nothing.”
