“...I pluck every day from my sweater or chair, red hairs...strands of significance, traces of you in my life ...”
“A sea of people in red crowded around it. I looked atMallory’s black hoodie and my gray sweater and realized we’d forgotten to wear the school colors. Oh, well. There was always my hair.”
“Red hair is my life long sorrow.”
“I wondered what one wore to visit a vampire. The chic red sweater set didn't go so well with my darker hair, and I was afraid it might be construed as a flirtatious invitation to color me bloodier.”
“It was as if every day a piece of my heart was plucked out by birds and carried away little by little.”
“Both of my hands wove into her hair again and clutched at the soft curls. No matter how I tightened my grip, the strands kept falling from my fingers, a shower of water from the sky.”