Pink hair Stories

My son told me over the phone that this one’s a keeper, but it isn't until I open the front door to them both that I believe him. “Hey, Dad.” He steps over the threshold, gangly and towering over me, Lynx Africa wafting as we embrace, and I catch sight of her over his shoulder. Well, mostly her hair. Pink. So pink. The fading sun accents the highlights in her mane that tumbles messily and effortlessly over the low-cut cro...