Redheaded Girl

There was the time with the redheaded girl. My mother had taken me to her hair appointment, in the house of a loud woman, the friend of a friend. The entryway to the house was dark and crowded with coats, and as we entered I saw a redheaded girl walk by, behind the loud woman.

My mother turned to me and whispered, “I think she has a daughter about your age. You can play with her.”

“Yeah, OK.”

“Cassie just went downstairs, I think.” The woman was built too thick, but the girl’s red curls seemed to me familiar. “Cassie!” I thought, She gets louder each time she opens her mouth.

The redheaded girl smiled at me as she appeared in the entryway. “Come on.” Her face was freckled, she wore a white t-shirt, and her hair fell about her shoulders as though unkempt. She pointed the way toward the stairs, I went ahead, and she closed the basement door behind her.


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