SIXTY TWO

.

“Yes,” I replied. I took her with me, and just before going to the bathroom, she stopped me.

“I want your help,” she said, looking serious.

“How can I help?” I asked.

“You don’t have to dye my friend’s hair the same color as mine. Do any color, but not the same as mine. I will pay you double for that,” she replied, her eyes pleading with me.

I was shocked. “What are you saying? I didn’t get it,” I asked her again.

“You heard it right. Please don’t. I don’t want Ava to look like me. She always copies me—my style, everything. Please, I beg you, don’t do that,” she pleaded, looking sad.

“Okay, let me talk to her. I will try to understand her. She should have her own style,” I replied, trying to assure her.

“She will not understand, I know,” she replied sadly.

“But we should try,” I said.

We then went back to the salon. Ava was waiting for me.

“Ava, I have a suggestion for you,” I spoke to her, and she looked at me.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Look, the brown color looks good on your hair. You