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DAY 37: TOTAL CONFIRMED DEATHS 170,324 WORLDWIDE


She decided to dye her hair purple. Why not? She felt like getting messy. She hadn’t washed her hair and days so it was already damp with head grease. Why not throw in a little gooey dye?

She had gloves, which previously were for things like dying one’s hair, but now those were a precious resource necessary for a simple trip to the store. She had to be frugal because it was now impossible to get one’s hands on any gloves, cleaner, and oddly, flour and sugar still. People were still rage baking.

So she went for it, hands bare and naked. Her nails were already ruined with patches of silvery pink paint, and her cuticles were completely destroyed, torn, shredded from picking and housework. At first she used the appropriate black, stiff-bristled dying brush she purchased along with the dye. Neatly, she separated her hair into sections and smoothly brushed in the dye.

But it was taking so long! She hadn’t realized her hair was also quite lengthy now as well. So many layers needed to be covered...now the ends weren’t coated...now the underside needed more...now the back...

Her bottle refused to squeeze out any more dye; it was too thick.

She spun the brush around to the pointy side and stuck the thin, solitary, comb tooth into the bottle. That worked. Now she was just splatting the dye on the sections with the over-sized tooth-end.

Her arm was tired.

She tossed the tool to the side and just dumped the dye into her palm, and then spread it all over her scalp like shampoo. It felt good. Cold and squishy. She put her hair up into a bun, and then poured more dye onto that ball of ends. More shampoo moves. She finally threw a rubber band in it, and looked at the directions for the first time. 30 minutes? An hour should suffice. Just to make sure.

She was pleased with the results, her technique was obviously professional. She was sure her hairdresser would be amused, if not proud.

If she ever got to see her again.

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