I like to watch her run her fingers through her dark brown hair. Her hair looks so soft. And it is so long. She always only touches the hair on the right side of her face, never the left side. She grabs a handful of dark brown hair at the front of the right side of her face with her palm, leaning into her hand with her head and pushes the hair backward, using her fingers like a comb until she comes to the end of the length of the hair, pulling the hair outward and turning her entire head to the left slightly before she pulls her fingers through the final strands. She does this several times an hour. If it was 1:00 P.M., She would flip her hair at 1:15 PM. And then again at 1:38 P.M. And then again at 1:52 P.M. It seems like it would make more sense to wear a hair scrunchy or a banana clip or braid it. But she likes it down and flowing over her left shoulder, just not in her face. Not on the right side. She doesn’t touch her dark brown hair when Desmond speaks to her. She just stares at him, almost through him, while he speaks. Barely blinks or breathes. Its almost like she is trying to intimidate him in a passive aggressive way. Maybe they have slept together. Maybe he has hurt her in some way in the past. I cannot tell. She leans forward with her hands clasped in front of her chest, like he is making her impatient. He notices none of this. The wind could blow strands of hair in her face while he speaks but it is as if she doesn’t even feel them. She flinches a little, sometimes, but mostly she just stares at him. When Elizabeth comes by, no matter what, she always puts her hair up in a bun in the back by twisting the length of her hair into a knot. No Bobby pins, no rubber bands. I can’t tell if she does this because they are friends or not. Perhaps by moving her hair out of her face she wants Elizabeth to see her clearly, possibly her expressions, and know that she is paying attention. Maybe she does this as a reminder to Elizabeth that she is the better looking of the two of them, the younger of the two of them, the one with the longer hair, the more attractive of the two of them, so she pulls her hair back to subtly remind Elizabeth that she is not threatening her but she is still the Alpha. So she could threaten her at anytime. Possibly both reasons? I’m not certain. Elizabeth is usually coming to provide gossip to her so this must be the case. I’ll bet Elizabeth is jealous of her on some level. Elizabeth never stays long, just for a giggle and a whisper or two. By the time Elizabeth leaves, her dark brown hair has fallen down and she is back to the finger combing on the right side, over and over again. I want to kill her. Well, not really kill her, just hurt her a little bit. I mean I never would obviously, I would never do anything to harm anyone physically because, well, I don’t think I would last very long in jail if the authorities found out that it was me. I know that I would not have thought the murder or the assault through long enough before I did it and I would panic and get caught eventually. And every day would be torture until eventually came. It’s just an idea. Part of an experiment, really. When she pulls her fingers through her dark brown hair I want to grab the tail end of her tresses and smash her face into a window. Not to hurt her or anything, just to see what she would do. What she would look like with cuts and bruises. Would she still be intimidating to Desmond if she weren’t so attractive? Would Elizabeth still respect her? I’m just more curious than anything else. Would she scream in agony and cover her face or defend herself first? How would she react? I wonder if she would even be very concerned about tangled hair if her nose were broken. I find her fascinating. So I went to the wig store and I bought a long wig. A dark brown wig. Maybe a half inch shorter than her hair. I never wear it anywhere she might be. But I wear it a lot. Mostly on weekends. I go to a cafe, alone, in my long dark brown wig and I wear sun glasses and bring a book or a newspaper or my laptop and I pretend I am so engrossed in whatever media it is and then I flip and finger comb my wig the way she does her long brown hair. I glance around behind my sunglasses to see who is watching me do this. I try to do it several times an hour, just like she does; On the hour, 15, 38, 52. My heart pounds heavy and quickly when I do this. I fantasize that some man will think I am beautiful because I am doing this and sit down at my table and start talking to me about spending some time together. This terrifies me because then I would always have to wear the long brown wig to be with him. He would love me for the wig and I would be miserable. And what if he actually met her? He would leave me, I am sure. I’m glad no one talks to me when I go to the cafe for that reason. I do wonder if someone will notice it is only acting. I’m good at it, so they probably cannot tell. I do it just like she does and sometimes I want to show her. I want to do it in front of her and say, This is you. This is what you do. Look how good I am doing it! Are you impressed? I practiced, see? I can do it better than you can now. But I do not speak to her ever. I can’t stand her. Thinking of talking to her makes me want to throw up. I have nothing to say to her that would not sound childlike or contrived. I don’t even like the sound of her voice. I really think that she is an insane person, honestly. And clearly not bright. I think someone should cut her hair off. A nice pixie cut. Might make all the difference.