She felt around in the blocked sink with her rubber gloves, poking into the plughole with the toothbrush, pulling at the ends of the fibres caught in the trap, tugging and coaxing until she began to deliver up out of the drain a nasty mass, a thick rope of hair and soap and matted insulation, in a gulp of bad drain smell.

NEWYORKER: Friendly Fire

Kate had a sister whose hair was, inexplicably, mouse brown and a mass of thick, frizzy curls.

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