Sixty-three Year Old Widow Refused to Hide Her Gray Hair at Work

a meeting with the florist in an hour.”

“Well, now,” I said, placing my handbag on the seat beside me. “This will not take long, Cynthia.”

The waitress set down two thick ceramic mugs of black coffee, her movements slow and tired. She did not speak as she slipped the small yellow ticket under the sugar shaker. Two dollars and fifty cents.

“I saw the agency’s continue reading …