I dragged the tortoise shell comb through my hair and watched in the mirror as those thin strands of myself fell and floated to the floor. I threaded my hand through my scalp and gave it a gentle pull. They all fell, as beautifully as the petals of a black rose and stood out in stark contrast with the white marble floor.

The side-effects of chemotherapy had settle in.

My sister's keeper by Jodi Picoult is nice ;) Yeah. The paragraph above is inspired by her and that story ;)