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I was born with poop-brown hair, poop-brown eyes, and pasty skin. It’s the lot I was dealt in life.
But I ended up a wizard that fate likes to wrap herself around with an amazing girlfriend who didn’t seem to mind the poop-colored hair, so I’d sort of stopped worrying about it.
Maybe that’s why I hadn’t noticed my hair and eyes darkening to a shade closer to a shot of espresso that somehow made my pallor seem a little less pathetic. Or, maybe Lola was just skilled enough at whipping magic out of the drawers and cabinets in her room that she could manage to make anyone look good. Whatever it was, as I stared at myself in the mirror, for the first time ever, I wasn’t pathetically ashamed of what I saw.
She’d combed my floppy hair to have a tidy part, which somehow made the ends have a
