Soaked through Stories

Some habits are so ingrained in people that you could easily label them as compulsions. I was halfway through my routine when she arrived—slightly flustered, barely exchanging looks, smiles, or words with anyone. Determined. Still, it was enough for me to observe her. And hate the ponytail trapping her hair in that rushed, messy way. Rich, deep burgundy with stupidly exhilarating reddish-purple undertones. The kind of hai...