“I do her hair.”

I told her about the order.

That it expires on the fourteenth of November.

That I am not renewing it.

I watched her face and I watched the calculation start — I watched her reach for the angle, because she has never in her life heard a piece of information without immediately locating the angle in it — and I watched her get about halfway there and then stop.

“That doesn’t mean what you’re about to think it means,” I said.