A hairy situation by Johanna

It was a hairy situation. The hair covered one wall of the shower. When she scraped it all off it made a big wet disgusting hairball. Every day, everywhere she turned there was hair. In her clothes, in her bed, stuck in the carpet. She got a 15.6 volt handheld vacuum to suck it up from any angle, but there was always more. Why did she put up with it? It was for moments like this one: sitting on a plane with the light from the setting sun shining through the window. It set her hair on fire. It was pink and orange and glowing and the only people who knew about it were her and the two people sitting behind her and the two next to her. But it was enough, one magical moment when she was a flame, to keep putting up with the hairs in the shower, in the laundry, all over the floor, and in quite a few countries across the world. In fact it was good that it was just her and the people she didn’t know because then they couldn’t say anything to ruin it. She hated the way her mother always spewed out compliments at her like she was some kind of divinity. Those never counted; it’s no good being pretty on the outside if people treat you like garbage. It was much better to have it all quietly in their heads. Or written down somewhere maybe.