The old man was running his fingers through my hair last night. He thought he was being affectionate. I thought he was being annoying.
Not only did he run his fingers through my hair, he "fluffed" it. Finally, he gave my hair a gentle pat. "There," he said, "It looks perfect."
I could tell by the feeling of hair standing upright that it wasn't perfect, and waves of panic washed over me as I thought, "What if someday I go blind and the old man is left in charge of my hair and clothing?"
Of all the big, scary things in the world to be afraid of, you wouldn't think that being coifed and dressed by the old man would be in the top 10.
On my list, it even beats out public speaking.
