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

clear,” I said, holding my mug.

“Of course it is, dear,” Brenda said, patting my arm with a sticky hand. “But Harold was quite concerned when he heard. He said we can’t afford these little lapses anymore.”

She took her cup and left the room, the scent of her cheap cherry balm lingering near the microwave. I stood by the counter, my fingers tracing the continue reading …