International Beauty Supply

PART 6

. . . The storm pissed through, and a brief, but oddly warm and comfortable wind followed, knocking down a few cricky branches and blowing mushy trash around in the alley way behind the house. Days like this spun the woman’s head like a top, filling her with all sorts of strange ideas and clever feelings. She thought about a friend she hadn’t spoken to for years, someone she lost touch with and couldn’t really remember the reason why. A phone call seemed the natural thing but she couldn’t quite muster the confidence, as if to be absent from another’s life long enough meant too much had changed, things were impossibly different and unfamiliar. Ten years seemed like an impossible amount of ground to cover and all the dated reference points would undoubtedly prove strange and awkward. . .