The morning Christine Darden got her hair done it rained—thunder, lightning, the whole works. Driving to Nicki's, she thought that probably a lot of people would cancel their appointments. Why have your perfectly done hair swirled around by the wind and rain?

She had had all weekend to change her mind, and she still wanted it all cut off. Women who changed from long hair to short always thought of all. All different. All cut off.

At a stoplight, Christine looked out the side window—or tried to. The way the water waved across the glass reminded her of what Saran wrap looked like when you didn't stretch it tight enough as you pulled it off the roll and it rippled and stuck to itself. She touched the glass. It was cold. It was April in Washington, but spring was late and for what seemed like weeks it had been raining or gray skies had threatened rain. The disc jockey on the radio station had a good sense of humor. For a few seconds Christine hummed along as Willie Nelson sang, "Blue skies, smilin' at me ...." The light changed, and she drove through the intersection. There was static on the radio, and when the station came back, a woman was saying, "People think that leeks are interchangeable with onions, but they aren't." Christine pushed a button and watched the little green needle roll quickly until it stopped. An old Beatles song. She let it play.