Sometimes Jeanna is positive angels are all around.
Because Shes twenty, and young and beauty college is full of men with gray, prickly beards and sleek women who clinkclink in high high heels.
And she is mousy and brown skin, hair, eyes. Not bright or small or styled, she does curls in huge loops on the busts head and wonders if She should spritz it with hairspray.
Jeanna does not know what she’s doing here. She wanted journalism but quite spontaneously took this up; The care and pursuit of beautiful hair.
Her heels are too big and thick for high heels, her teacher purses her lips and sway walks around, eyes fixed and small; bullets in her creased face. A drip of sweat curls in her collarbone and she feels sick in doubt and trouble, she pulls the silky fake hair into a low braid, pulling strands out as she goes.
She views her work and does not smile.
Smiles are for women with oiled skin and hair so straight it drops to the ground.
She is very scared and someone touches her hand, cool fingers on her hand.
“Its beautiful.” Her neighbor smiles, quelling her insides.
Angels are everywhere,