This time around, the shock on the Queen's face lasted for more than two seconds. It lasted until she croaked out a sound of amazement from her lips, which was similar to one in my head, which was similar to the ones I heard from our watchers, which had increased by the minute.
"You…" She stuttered, unbelief in her eyes. She was still holding the offending hair, an offending hair that I vowed to cut when I got home.
As I was still cussing the offending hair, the Queen pulled another one, and this time around, it was a little lower than a chunk. What the hell!
Without much ado, I pushed her away from myself, held my hair by myself, and swerved to one of the windows of the castle—the windows could do the job of a mirror. My mouth dropped open in shock when I noticed that almost one quarter of my hair was white hair-not together-some were scattered, mixed with my black long hair. It looked like a trend, like a swag, only that it was not. I wanted it gone.
