I’m Dyeing Blonde

“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“You know … like you’re any better than I am.”
“What I do this time?” I threw my hands in the air. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Didn’t have to,” Kara snapped.
“What’s your deal lately?” I said.
Kara lowered her head. “I’m dyeing.”
“That’s terrible.” I embraced her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I mean, what are you dying off?”
“I guess I don’t understand.”
“No, I am dyeing my hair.”
I doubled over and laughed hard.
“What’s so funny?”
“I thought you were fucking going to die.”
“With the way my hair looks, I may as well be dead.”
“Wanna shoot me in the head,” she said, handing me an imaginary gun.”
“Not on your life.” I kissed her.
“Where’s all this lovey-dovey stuff coming from? Maybe I should pretend I’m dying more often.”


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