Indeed, she was not the same person who walked in crying one month before. I took a quiet, tearful moment in the restroom and then put my business fa...e back on and went back to the endeavors of helping the unit counselors teach addicted individuals how to live without chemicals. Her innocence and vulnerable beauty, however, remained etched in my mind and heart for a long while. Things of which I once took no notice would remind me of her: a smile from a stranger on the street, a scent of. She sprayed my hair and wig. It was saturated with a strange smellingliquid. My scalp grew very warm. The operator then watched the clock. Shegrasped my hand and led me to a reclining chair over a sink. She washed myhead and ran a comb through the strands until my hair had been completelyblended with the wig.I was swiveled around and looked in the mirror. I nearly swooned at thevision I saw.I heard the voice of the operator. "The wig is real hair, and your ownhair will continue to grow, too.. More

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