Nothing to do all day but look. And no eyes to do it with. The man was out of place. This was a natural place, albeit cursed with a supernatural quiet... No birds sang here. No mice scurried between the grasses. It was just there, still and silent. The confidence of nature. The man was just a tiresome nuisance to it, but not a problem. Because he was just standing there, against a pole, doing nothing. The silent field could handle that. That was easy. The man did not come from here. He was from a. He was likeable enough, the gay man new everything about color and tone. He was not content to just change her color, no this was about her whole look. The way he spoke about color you’d think the world would end if there was a grey hair. Strange, Leslie thought, coming from a bald man. He pulled at her hair, dabbing a brush in, occasionally making small cuts and wrapping her hair up in foil. Leslie doubted there was a part that wasn’t touched. Brad stepped away while her color set leaving her. More

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