“I strolled into a downtown parking garage, wearing a black pantsuit and matching heels. I’d pulled my dark, chocolate-brown hair up into a high, sleek ponytail, while black glasses with clear lenses covered my coldgray eyes. I looked like just another corporate office drone, right down to the enormous black handbag I carried.”

“I don’t like to brag or frighten, but I’ve got a black belt. And a brown one, which I sometimes wear with black slacks.”

“A bear! A bear! All black and brown and covered in hair!”

“If I entered a tropical beach, would I end up in Nazi Germany with my highly inconvenient black hair?”

“MEDVIEDENKO Why do you always wear mourning? MASHA I dress in black to match my life. I am unhappy.”

“My fingers combed through my dark hair, short and straight, landing in choppy, uneven ends nearly level with my chin. The color reminded me of every evil character in any fairy tale. It seemed all were characteristically black; black hair, black eyes, black clothing, black demeanor, and black intent. I never thought I was truly a villainous character, not like I knew my father to be, but I was his offspring and devoid of any princess-like characteristics, so that left only the wicked side of the story to play. In my dreams, though, I imagined myself more like Snow White―wavy, raven hair, a perfectly fair complexion, bathed in rose scents, and exhibiting a natural feminine grace that would dance musical circles around both Ginger and Elizabeth. No, I never hoped for such a thing to be real, but I dared to pretend it with perfect clarity in my dreams.”