...Dickinson pov…

She suddenly stared at me, her eyes fixated on my hair. Confused, I asked her what was wrong, but she simply howled, "What happened to your...my hair?"

I was taken aback by her reaction and instinctively reached up to touch my hair. It felt the same as always, so I didn't understand what had made her so worked up. "What do you mean? What's wrong with it?" I asked.

Emile pointed at my hair, which I had hastily arranged that morning before leaving the house. "It's wrongly arranged!" she exclaimed. "What is this?" She wagged her hands in front of my hair.

I shrugged my shoulders, feeling a...