She cut her hair. She got short bangs chopped her long hair. She lost her charm and grace and men noticed her less. She wanted change and no else understood, and it really didn’t matter to her. She wanted change. She got change. She chopped off her jet black hair and her friends said it would grow soon to comfort her, their voices filled with pity and their faces drenched with sorrowful smiles. And she laughed and said she didn’t care if her her hair ever grew back and they thought she was just saying it to make herself feel better. The fact was even with chopped her, the girls were jealous because she was still carrying herself really well. She never slouched and her hips moved gracefully even when she was tired and her legs cramped. She walked with sensuality and men watched her with lust pouring out of their eyes and mouths even without the long locks of hair. She had lost the special grace that comes with long hair, but she knew how to walk and smile and girls were jealous. She knew they were, but never put herself above anyone else. She worked hard and didn’t draw attention to herself by flaunting or wearing tight skirts. And one day, when it was hot and her bangs had curled up, she took out a mirror and fixed them, and then got up to get off at her stop.