I sat on the couch, my hands joined together atop my lap. Across me, upon a wider couch, sat my family. They were withholding their various emotions behind barely cool faces. They were hardly keeping it together. And it was reasonable to act as so. I had done something so reckless and stupid. Cutting my hair like a boy's, coloring it grey—I must have lost my mind! These were my family's thoughts, and I couldn't blame them for that. But what mattered most here was for me try to talk to them, let them hear my reasons.
"Your hair . . ." Eriyln whispered under her breath, her brows knotted in sadness. "But it was so beautiful. And shiny and soft. Like lamplight."
She sounded as though she was the one who had had her hair changed into a completely new unexpected style. There was so much regret in her eyes, and I struggled not to let myself drown in them. Drowning would mean I'd let myself think that this was the wrong decision. So I looked away, avoided her gaze.
