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place behind the sink. Dark Brown. Then she got in the shower
and wet her hair. She tilted the bottle and began massaging the
dye into her hair. She stood at the mirror and sobbed
uncontrollably while it set. When it was done, she climbed into the
shower again and rinsed it out. She shampooed and conditioned
and stood before the mirror. Carefully, she applied mascara to her
eyebrows, darkening them. She added bronzer to her skin,
darkening it. She dressed in jeans and a sweater and stared at
herself.
A dark, short-haired stranger looked back at her.
She cleaned the bathroom scrupulously, making sure no hair
remained in the shower or on the floor. Extra strands went into
the garbage bag, along with the box of hair dye. She wiped the
sink and counter down and tied up the garbage bag. Last, she put
eyedrops in, trying to erase the evidence of her tears.
She had to hurry now. She packed her things in a duffel bag.
Three pairs of jeans, two sweatshirts, shirts. Panties and bras.
Socks. Toothbrush and toothpaste. A brush. Mascara for her
eyebrows. The little jewelry she owned. Cheese and crackers and
nuts and raisins. A fork and a knife. She went to the back porch
and dug out the money from beneath the flowerpot. The cell
phone from the kitchen. And finally, the identification she needed
to start a new life, identification she’d stolen from people who
trusted her. She’d hated herself for stealing and knew it was
wrong, but she’d had no other choice and she’d prayed to God for
forgiveness. It was too late to turn back now.
She had rehearsed the scenario in her head a thousand times, and
she moved fast. Most of the neighbors were off at work: she’d
watched them in the mornings and knew their routines. She didn’t
want anyone to see her leave, didn’t want anyone to recognize
her.
She threw on a hat and her jacket, along with a scarf and gloves.
She rounded the duffel bag and stuffed it beneath her sweatshirt,