Free Journey to the Centre of Myself by Andie M. Long

anyway, I’d best get back to it,’ she whispers, ‘Andi’s constantly on the lookout.’
    ‘Oh, no worries,’ I whisper back. ‘Like I said, I was only popping in.’
    As I leave the building, the receptionist is not in her seat. Checking the vicinity, I go behind the desk and retrieve every one of her pens, the ones we have around for visitors. There’s around twenty in all. I walk outside and throw them in the nearest waste bin. Now that’s some more money they can spend on bloody pens. I smack my hands together and carry on walking down the street.
     
    I walk past a hairdressers called ‘Fast Cuts’ and still euphoric about Operation Pen, I enter and ask the receptionist if I can be fitted in for a cut and colour. They have space so I’m escorted to a chair by a hairdresser whose name badge says, Yvonne. She has short, spiky bleach blonde hair with a fringe that tips all the way over her face at the right side. I wonder how she can cut hair straight with half her face covered. I study my reflection in the mirror, check out my scraggy grey hair and think she can’t really make it any worse.
    ‘So how do you want it, love?’
    ‘Erm…’
    ‘Do you want a magazine for inspiration?’
    I nod my head repeatedly before I realise I must resemble an overenthusiastic puppy, ‘Yes please.’
    She volunteers to make me a cup of tea while I spend time looking through the magazines.
    Some minutes later I find a photo of an actress with rich dark brown hair and a fringe that sits below her eyebrows. I’ve not had a fringe since my youth. My hair was brown before the grey started to poke through, it’ll be nice to be reunited. I show Yvonne the photo.
    ‘That’s lovely. I think it’ll suit you. Oooh, a real transformation, I can’t wait. Usually, all we get is some ugly bloke who wants a quick short, back and sides.’
    This makes me laugh. A transformation? Gosh, can she alter my soul while she’s at it? Give me a life makeover?
    As I’m placed under the heat lamp for the colour to take, I realise I need to think about my next move. It will be five o’clock before I’m out of here. Then I need to make my planned visit and find a hotel. As I stare out of the hairdressers window, I realise I’m staring at a hotel in the heart of the City Centre. If I book in there, I’ll be able to drop off my case, which I’m fed up of dragging around, and I can eat anywhere in the centre. Not a bad idea, I agree with myself.
    ‘So, I notice you've got a case. Are you here on business?’ asks Yvonne.
    ‘No, I’m about to go on holiday and decided Paris cannot see me in this state?’
    ‘Paris? You lucky woman. Hey,’ she nods at her colleague, ‘this one’s off to Paris.’
    ‘Oh, I love it there. You must go to Laduree and sample their Macarons. They’re out of this world.’
    ‘All the sights of Paris and you recommend a food shop? Trust you,’ laughs Yvonne.
    I get my notebook and write the name down. ‘I’ll be sure to try them.’
    ‘You won’t regret it,’ says the colleague, ‘better than sex.’
    ‘I’ll go there first then,’ I reply and they both break into laughter.
     
    I find it hard to put into words how grateful I am when I see the results. My hair is stunning and I resemble a younger version of myself. Why have I let myself go like this? Well, obviously I know why because I could no longer be bothered with anything. My dignity having gone long ago, the rest of me followed.
    I thank Yvonne and give her a huge tip. She asks me to pop back and tell her what Paris was like. I know they’re probably empty words, said to each customer, but someone has been kind and taken an interest in me and I appreciate it more than I can say.
    I book into the hotel opposite. It’s upmarket and costs me more for one night than I’d hope to pay for three, but it suits my new image so I go for it. Thick red carpet lines the reception. I’m shown to my room. It’s enormous. Unfortunately, the view is of