and it felt like the

“Holy L.M. Montgomery, Molly, what did you-”“You promised you wouldn’t freak out!” Molly groaned, running their hands over their flushed face. “I just- I needed it- I needed it off and now it’s off, but it doesn’t look- please, fix it?”April closed her mouth. She recognized the look on Molly’s face; it was the same one Jo had, years ago, when she showed up on April’s doorstep with a pack of butterfly clips in one hand and a thing of hair bows in the other: nervous, unsure, vulnerable. This, April thought, was not so different.