"God, what's wrong with my hair."
She sat in the airport terminal and fixed the faux flower in her head. She readjusted her ponytail and brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes. She crossed her arms and tried to forget about the immense discomfort her hair was giving her. She wiped some crumbs leftover from breakfast off of her shirt and removed her shoes with her feet. She re-crossed her arms and looked at a child, stumbling across the blue carpet, moaning nonsense. She gave a small smile as the little boy's mother ran over and picked him up, scolding him without being able to restrain her smile. She looked from the mother to the boy.
"She still loves you, ya little bastard. You hear her scolding you, sure, but I see her smiling. She could never stay mad."
She looked directly across from her and caught the eyes of a boy, roughly her age, who quickly looked down at his laptop. He adjusted the headphones in his ears, then looked back up to see if she was still looking (she was), and then began typing away on his computer.
Was he typing about her? He couldn't know.
Her hand flew up to her ponytail, and she removed the elastic band. She let her hair loose and shook her head, running her fingers across her skull, massaging her scalp. It wasn't her scalp that was driving her crazy though, it was her hair. The individual hairs on her head each cried out in insignificant pain, all joining together into one agonizing scream for mercy. She briefly thought of shaving it all off, but somehow knew it wouldn't help. Surely her hair would grow back just as soon as she set the razor down, once again groaning for relief. She brought her hands down to her lap and tapped her index finger onto her knee. She looked down at her bag, it was still there. She looked at the boy with the laptop, he was still typing. She looked for the child, he was gone.
He was gone.
Her flight was now being called over the PA system. She replaced her shoes, grabbed her bag, and stood. Now was the time. A new beginning, a new life. She fixed the flower. Her hair hurt. She hefted her bag's strap higher up on her shoulder. It rolled around inside. They were giving the final boarding call.
She could deal with the pain later.
The pain in her hair, that is.
What unbearable pain.