Waking Up

It was a Sunday. Or maybe a Saturday.

No, definitely a Sunday. Because you don't normally get post on Sundays, and that was why it was so strange. That would have been it. Of course, it was strange without that, but that wasn't the point.

I woke up and I knew something was different.

It was the doorbell that woke me. The doorbell, and my mother's confused voice talking to the delivery man. She called my name.

"Elanor? Elanor, are you there?"

As I got up from my bed, I noticed. My hair. My dead-straight, shoulder-length, mousy-brown-with-a-streak-of-grey hair. It wasn't dead-straight. It was curly, the perfect ringlets I'd always craved. It was also about four inches longer. And it was a much nicer shade of brown: a darker, richer, more chocolate-y.

I screamed aloud.

The End

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