Silver Strands

Embarrassed of her age and getting no praise, she cut her gray hair with a furious face; oh, it seemed the color of glittering gold strewn with silver curls! What made her think she was unattractive and way too old... and if that were true, how would she get another wink? Blinded by shame, she cut off the gray strands and hid them in a violin case...was she a famous violinist of a Symphony Orchestra? Was it madness, lack of confidence or even allodoxaphobia? One can be certain of this: age cannot be stopped as air or hail! Why go into fits and curse fate for not grating one's wish? Don't we know that our stay is a temporary one until our death? I barely remember her, and could never say hello when she hurried past me with deep worry and sadness on her unfriendly face stricken with horror. " What a lovely lady! Why didn't she smile? " That made her look old! Had she put on a sweet smile even for a second, she'd have been my lucky ace poker! I even thought of asking her for a date...go out with a complete stranger? Not quite so, a few times I bumped into her at the coffee shop last winter. Here comes the funny part...it wasn't coincidence, yesterday rushing out of the door a gust took off her blonde wig, her shaved head was similar to a watermelon: smooth and shiny like pie, and her pretension even more absurd than foolishness; she tried to chase after it with speedy steps, but she failed and began to cry... by luck, I caught that wig floating as a newspaper's page or twig. Before passersby saw her bold head, she covered it with her wool scarf, and turning to me said, " Thanks a lot, sir . " I was shocked and wanted to laugh, she flashed the most adorable smile and she really looked young and sounded bright; and as she pulled it down with hurry and nervousness, " My name is Susanne Moore... what's yours? " I replied, " I am Andrew, the single guy next door. " " Eh, still single? Would you like to go on a date this Saturday night? "