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apartment. I didn’t like what I saw. A tiny dining room opened into the living room on one side, the kitchen on the other. A narrow hallway led to my bedroom and the bathroom. My life was encapsulated into less than 800 square feet. And not even an attractively furnished 800 square feet, at that.
    When I’d moved out of the house Marc and I shared for so long, I couldn’t have cared less about furnishings. I just wanted it over with, and I didn’t want to drag along any physical reminders. One quick trip to Valu-Mart had done the trick. A cheap black couch set, fake wood end tables, no-frills lamps, a bed minus a headboard, a wood-composite desk, half-opened boxes, and the laundry baskets I kept my clothes in rounded out my furnishings. I hadn’t even bothered to buy a real dresser. I’d been living like this for nearly a year, and it hadn’t bothered me once in that entire time. I mean, I had food, a place to sleep, a roof over my head—what else did I need?
    I sat on my bed and hugged a pillow. Why I hadn’t seen this before, I didn’t know. I hadn’t been living. Not really. More like existing: just getting from one day to the next as quickly as possible. My chest grew tight and heavy. The room swam as my eyes filled with tears. It seemed the entire year of misery bombarded me at once.
    No. I didn’t want this. I needed to learn how to breathe again. To see in color again. And yes, I had to figure out how to live again. I was ready for a change.
    No, more than that. I needed a change. Merely existing could kiss my ass.
    “I want to dye my hair,” I told Maddie the following Wednesday. We were eating lunch at the deli down the street from A Taste of Magic. Maddie had Wednesdays off. And for me, Wednesdays tended to be slow at the shop, so it was the best day of the workweek for us to meet. Not that we needed to arrange a certain day to see each other. After all, Maddie’s apartment was directly above mine, so we pretty much could visit whenever we wanted. But these lunches had been habit long before my separation from Marc.
    “What color?” she said over a bite of her sandwich.
    “I’m not sure. What do you think?” Maddie was an expert when it came to flair and fashion. If anyone could help me, she could.
    Maddie sat back in her chair and appraised me. She’d pulled her blonde hair up into what appeared to be an effortless style. Tendrils framed her face, making her smoky eyes large and luminous. And, as always, regardless of the time of day, her makeup was perfectly applied. As strange as it sounds, in all the years we’d known each other, I’d never seen her with a bare face.
    “Hmm. Well, red highlights would be awesome on you. But everyone does auburn. You have beautiful hair anyway. Why mess with it?”
    “I want something different.” I licked the mayonnaise from my chicken salad off my lips. “I’m ready. I want to make a few changes, though nothing drastic.”
    “Really? What brought this on?”
    “Marc. The wedding. The cake. I don’t know. I’m just ready. But I don’t know what to do.” As much as I trusted Maddie, what occurred in my bedroom was private. Realizing I’d barely been living the past year had startled me, changed me, and it still weighed too heavy inside to share. I felt like someone had erased me and I had to learn to draw myself all over again, only I didn’t know which pencil to use. Or where to begin. And now I was talking like my sister Alice, the artist.
    Realizing I wasn’t going to offer up more information, Maddie grinned. “I’d stick close to what you have. Maybe lighten the base shade a couple of degrees and then add some blonde highlights. Not too blonde. Go for a dark honey tone.”
    Before I could respond, my cell phone rang. Flipping the cover up, I saw my sister’s name on the Caller ID. “Sec,” I said to Maddie. Speak of the Devil.
    Alice rarely called me during the day. Worried, I clicked the button. “Hi, Alice.”
    “Oh my God!