She could still see it when she closed her eyes, it was long and soft, falling down in golden-brown strands that played around her face in the summer wind.

It was so clear in her mind, the way the sun made it glow like some mischievous angel’s halo. The most beautiful frame for her smile.

She remembered how it shone under the rain, the way she loved to put her face against it on her pillow, the vague smell of flowers and ginger from her perfume that filled her nose when she did.

Lost in memory, her hand reached out to touch it. Her fingers recoiled at the touch of fabric. She opened her eyes and ripped the scarf from her head. A pale and hairless face stared back at her with sunken eyes.

Full of sudden rage, she snatched the first object she found to throw it against the hated face in the mirror… then froze as she noticed the few loose hairs still hanging from the bristles of the hairbrush in her hand. They were long, and soft, and golden brown.

She fell to her knees and curled into a ball, loudly crying as she held the brush tightly against her chest.