My response to Charli Mills’ challenge of writing a 99-word Flash Fiction story about growing older… FOLLOW her and join in on the fun, whenever the mood strikes you. https://carrotranch.com
Fifty years ago, I remember sitting in the comfy chair of the beautician, covered in a plastic drape that caught the hair she cut off my head. Because it was impolite to stare, I’d have to be satisfied with the occasional glimpse of the soft, faint bluish-white hair of the sweet little old ladies who sat in the other chairs.
These days, my faint bluish-white hair is of no real interest to anyone else in the salon. And I find myself, still stealing glimpses of the young ones around me with their bright, bold colors.