With a sigh, she shucked her bonnet and shook out her wet hair. It could not be referred to as ringlets, for she had never possessed the tight curls her schoolmates had styled into pigtails when they were girls. No, her hair was wild and untameable, sort of how she imagined herself now. She often considered that perhaps she had grown into her hair, rather than it maturing with her. It would take forever to dry, she lamented as she stared at herself in the cracked mirror which hung on the wall by the doorway. 