. . she must have had hope that day in the drug store, hope that the
peroxide would work. The blonde hid the grey, but not the
fact that it was there. The pony tail pulled up too high on her head
tried to convince her there was still youth left in her. She stretched
her arm in what she thought was a sexy movement as she flicked the ashes
out the window, then drove off in a car that once, a long time ago, may
have cost someone else a lot of money. . . at the corner on the way home from work.