This early morning, as my sister woke wearily from her bed and I have finally readied my face for public scrutiny, I said to her
"I'm growing an afro."
A look of annoyance, then... a cold shoulder.
Tucking my head as low as possible, I shoved the crown of my head to her face. Popping out, was a twirling little...you know, hair.
My sister isn't the type to wake up happy, or nice, or you know... kind. Despite the strand of hair celebrating its ridiculous number of twirls, conquering the crown of my head, announcing the possibility of an afro in the coming of my adulthood, not a creak of smile wavered from the tip of my sister's lips.
At this point, convincing her of my afro mutation was futile. I plan to try it out during her birthday when she is in a better mood. The possibilities are slim, nevertheless, I'm not one to give up easily.
she is not humored.