Redhead (100 words)
The room was a bloodbath. Poll shivered on the toilet seat despite the condensation smothering the windows. The hair dye drooled; even the hairbrush seemed to sweat. Poll clutched her clammy arms. The towel bound her head too tightly, heat pressed into her scalp.
I bet someone told you blondes have more fun, didn’t they?
Poll smiled, remembering Hazel’s first words to her. How she sat, stunned. Half-offended, half-entertained. How she pushed her fingers into her mousy roots.
Wait, let me guess. Dad watched a lot of Marilyn Monroe.
Hazel was a blaze of colour. Poll wanted to burn too.
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