The hairstyle hadn't been what she had expected. But the trainee stylist had been so proud of the results. She hadn't had the heart to disagree. Instead she had thanked the stylist for her time and work then left with her head held high.
Every step toward her car had punctuated the silent pleas that she would reach her home unseen. She had never tried to add extra height to her already thick hair. But the beehive style that sat atop her head made her hair seem impossibly huge.
She opened her car door and slid inside, relieved that her hair fit inside the car. A few miles across town and she could undo the mass of hair spray and fluff. The miles passed as she calculated how much conditioner she would need to salvage her dignity.
She parked the car and all but ran to her front door. She ducked inside, locked the door behind her, and leaned back. She reached up and felt the pile of hair atop her head. It had managed to survive the trip fully intact. She groaned and dropped her purse on the entryway table. A meow turned her attention to the couch. Her cat laid on the back, tail flicking back and forth, eyes narrowed to a glare of disapproval.