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It made sense. So much sense, all my questions were answered. So much sense, I turned my palm and squeezed hers. “I get it,” I said, feeling a million pounds lighter than when I’d entered this office. “And you’re right.”
Florence’s lips stretched into a reassuring smile. “Stop worrying, okay? I’ve got it all under control.”
I nodded. Stood, almost lightheaded from relief. Made it to the door.
“Rue,” Florence called. I looked at her from over my shoulder. “It’s getting long again.”
“What is?”
Florence pointed to the left side of her own head. “Your undercut. Might be time to trim it again.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right.”
“Where does time go?”
I had no answer. So I smiled my goodbyes, and went back to my office, putting the matter out of my head—until that night, when I got into my car and heard a weird sound.