I pictured a sweeping fringe slicked across my forehead Justin Bieber style. Or my curls, chopped and swept backwards, secured with some greasy hair gel, like Harry Styles. Or a complete absence of hair like the tattooed man responsible for shearing Ana Carolina's head. I'd have to wear a beanie hat for three years, with neither the disposition nor the cheekbones to carry off the trendy student look.
'Ana's boyfriend is a lucky man.' Armin continued to snip at my hair. It was too far along now for me to stop him. If I got up now I might wind up with some asymmetrical hair style that made me look like the crazy emotional freak I was worrying I was morphing into. I didn't want to discuss how lucky Ana Carolina was. The girl was genetically blessed, she made a living out of being a clothes h
