She Sold Her Hair

I had been there exactly one time in my life, on a Tuesday in October, in a wool hat, with a plastic grocery bag.

The woman behind the counter was around sixty with reading glasses on a beaded chain, and she didn’t recognize me, and why would she.

I put the receipt on the counter.

I’d kept it in the pocket of a winter coat for two years. Gavin had used a copy of it in his folder that night, the small folded paper he laid down last, and afterward I asked for the original back and he gave it to me without asking why.

It was soft at the folds. **MARBURY’S SALON SUPPLY — HAIR, RAW, UNTREATED, 24IN, DARK — $150.00 — CASH.**

“I’m trying to find out where this went,” I said.