A tangle of dark, woolly strands clung to the damp collar of my nightshirt.

I didn’t touch my head, and I didn’t look down into the porcelain sink.

I turned the brass key, opened the door three inches, reached out, and snatched the silver clippers off the nightstand where Daniel had left them.

He stood near the top of the stairs with his back to me, whispering to Eleanor.

I pulled the bathroom door closed again and locked it tight.

I plugged the heavy black cord into the outlet beside the mirror and flicked the side toggle forward.