She hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“All right.”
The Unexpected Art of Fixing a Mess
Harold leaned over the seat and handed me the small bottle of olive oil that had come with his meal.
“I have no idea whether this will work,” he said, “but it seems more promising than another argument.”
I accepted it.
“Thank you.”
I explained to Brittany that I would test a tiny section first and avoid pulling at the extensions or disturbing the attachment points.
She watched every movement nervously.
“Please don’t touch the clips.”
“I have no intention of doing that.”
I applied a small amount of oil to the affected ends and worked patiently with my fingers, separating the strands instead of tugging at them.
The slime began to loosen.
A little more oil, a little more patience, and another section came free.
Brittany stared.
“Oh, my God.”
“Patience,” I reminded her. “It is a useful skill.”
