Hungry

Holy cow! Nora made pancakes and everything. She never cooked breakfast. Nora was more of a grab-a-bite-and-go girl. I’d never seen her in the kitchen for longer than five minutes, unless it involved microwaving popcorn, pizza, or leftover take-out.

“Since when do you know how to cook?”

“I’ve always cooked,” she replied. Nora pushed a stray hair behind her ear. Wait…is her hair tied back in a bun? It sure is. When I woke up, her hair was down. Her hair was always out, since she loved showing off her blonde curls, especially because it was natural.

The girls at the club always teased her, asking, “How much did you pay to get your hair that color?” Or, “It’s amazing what you can get from a bottle.” She’d swat at them playfully and say, “Blondes have all the fun. Well…natural blondes do anyway.”

I felt like I was being suffocated. I loved Nora, but something was not right. It was not adding up. My stomach rumbled, distracting me as the food started to whet my appetite, making me feel as