Vanessa was messing with my hair when she saw it. Grey. Not just a random hair or two, but enough to start talking percentages. This was to be expected as my maternal grandfather’s hair turned in his twenties. Nevertheless, my body is beginning to betray my notion of a timeless existence this side of heaven.
I decided that I need a new bathroom. There are too many lights in mine. Am I actually seeing my hair get lighter or am I just noticing the light reflecting off my hair. What if I’ve thought the light had been reflecting off my hair all this time while really, my hair has been that much lighter for that long.