It was cancer. The treatments had started. My friend felt terrible when a few strands of her hair fell out. We went to a stylist who understood. In tears, my friend sat in the chair and the woman went to work. She cut a little here, cut a little there, turning the chair to the mirror and then away. She spritzed and styled the hair one way, then another, cutting in stages, one style after another until, at last, my friend’s hair was gone but we saw that day what would one day be again when the treatments were done.