Two bad marks and a long week

Two pink pins on my July board. Two. Both say the same thing in a new way. I am not the stylist. I am the face you saw and felt weird about. That is what the phone is telling me at 8:14 in the morning.

I sent Maya a picture of both pins. My hands were cold when I hit send. She wrote back in eleven seconds. She said come over. She did not say it is fine. She said come over. That is better.

I sat on my bed and counted what is left of the week. Mrs. Adler in Prospect Heights on Saturday. A nice woman. No man who comes home early. Clean money and a door I know. Fort Greene on Sunday. The couple who laugh. I picked the safe one first. I am tired of picking the brave one.

I miss my mum's salon in Atlanta. The hair dryer sound. The way no one there ever asked me to be more than me.