I sit still as the female continues to prod my hair.

“When is this going to end?”

Grace looks up from the book in her hands.

I am not facing her but thankfully, I can see her through the mirror in front of me, even as the stylist continues to poke my head.

“Are you here to make sure that I don’t disappear or what?”

She frowns at me in confusion, “What?”

“Guess, it’s the latter.”

At my whisper, she sighs and drops the magazine on the bed side drawer, “Leave us, please.”

The female stylist or whatever she is, immediately scrambles out of the room.

At least she said...