There’s an uncomfortable creeping panic in my gut. It intensifies as I catch the darkness of my hair in the almost imperceptible window reflection. I should be proud of the excellent job I did matching Siri’s hair with mine, but when we stood in front of the mirror side by side in the public cleansing room today, looking like twins—it freaked me out. I did not like seeing her in my clothes.

This whole thing was my idea. I shouldn’t be panicked!

This is all going to be amazing material. These past two weeks have been all sorts of tragic. Tragedy is comedy. You just have to let it ferment.

“I like your hair too!”

I twist back to grin at the five-year-old in the seat next to me.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Ian!” he says.

Weird that these people are enjoying my braid so much. You can barely see it with the dark hair; it just all kind of blends together without the proper light.

“What do you like about it? I did the new color today and I’m not sure how I feel. What do you think?” I ask him seriously.

The boy shrugs. “I don’t know. I like how long it is! It looks like horsie tail.”

I pull an over-the-top confused expression. “Ian!” His mother chuckles in an embarrassed sort of way.

I laugh and point to my head. “This poof ball is eons away from that kind of glory.”

“How long have you been growing it out?” his mother asks me.

“I, I mean, not long at all…”

“You’re kidding me? You’re just blessed? My hair stops at my collarbone. I used to try to grow it long in my college days, but it never happened for me.”

I run a hand over my barely shoulder-length hair. What the fuck is she talking about?

“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you keep it so healthy-looking? Even in the braid, it has this sheen that you don’t see with hair that long.”

I almost snort. Okay, what? “It’s just shampoo and classic conditioner. The dandruff kind is great.”

“Oh—”

I turn to the window and shift focus to my reflection. I can’t really see much, just an outline. I move my head around awkwardly, sitting up and slouching, trying to get a better view of my hair. And … dear lord, it does look like I have thick, dark something running down the side of my head and over my shoulder …

I frantically feel myself up, searching for what I’m getting a glimpse of in the window, but there’s nothing there but boob and shoulder. I spring from the seat and make eye contact with the mom. “Would you excuse me?”