"He has been back for three days, three days-- and I have not known-- he has not come to me. I counted each moment he was gone, and I spent the seven days my mind had generously alotted for his leave-taking in carefully-contained composure, bearing the pain and the endless amount of questions. It is too much-- it is too much to ask to treat me this way and go-- but I bore the seven days, and at the end of them I was on pins and needles with torment, absolutely certain that he too must be feeling this uncertainty even to the smallest degree-- and at the very least-- at least would have seen me, would have regarded me. See, he is in the next room-- look, these exchanges we have had-- this semblance of friendship. It is dust. My mind is rattled. I am mistaken-- I hallucinate-- I pretended friendship where it is not. I have arrayed myself beautifully, and what a parade of stupid nonsense I am."
Cassandra stood poised at her vanity mirror. Her long hair, which spilled past her waist, was twisted in one hand, and in the other was a pair of jeweled scissors.
As she lifted the scissors to cut, a larger hand wrapped around hers. Cassandra withdrew with a cry. "Kell! I didn't see you come in." He took the scissors away. "I take it you got the job." "I did," she said crisply. "Return my scissors to me." "Not if you intend to cut off your hair. What do you mean by this nonsense?" "I can't have long hair in the laboratory. It might catch fire or something." "Look there." He guided her to the window. Below them lay the scattered remains of a centuries-old city park. The benches were near invisible due to growth, while the pond had extended far beyond its original boundaries. Ducks floated serenely on its surface. "We played as children. Do you remember how you prized your hair?" Cassandra laughed a little drily. "Of course. I insisted all my powers as princess lay in my hair. I was haughty. unworthy of the friendship of you and your sister." ...