Red

She is trying to focus the camera without her glasses on, she knows it isn't going well. But she already feels like an undressed mannequin in a store window; the camera in her lap, all eyes on her, what is she doing, crazy lady...adding her glasses askew to this sculpted, flaming mess just to gain focus will not diminish the feeling.

Lately, she has noticed more and more sprouts of silver springing from the untreated part in her hair. There use to be only a few lone strands, now it seems those loners don't want to be lonely any more and have decided to gather a party.

She thought about leaving the artificial redhead behind, letting the silver sprigs win, slowly returning to the natural too dark state that is her birth color. But then she envisioned her mother's face over her face in the mirror, and knew she could never go back, she will do anything to not be or look like her mother.