Sheeba stared at herself in the mirror for the third time in as many minutes. The doubtful eyes were undeniably her own. The face was hers. The girl… was her, yet somehow not her… yet somehow better. Maybe.

Her own heavy curls carpeted the floor around her feet, shorn off in what she hoped was not a moment of insanity. There’d be no hiding behind what was left, that was for sure. The idea terrified her, but it was the hope change could bring that she clung to with determination.

One small step toward individuality down, a lifetime to go.