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<p style="color:#333333;font-weight:normal;font-size:16px;line-height:30px;font-family:Helvetica,Arial,sans-serif;hyphens:auto;text-align:justify;" data-flag="normal">Chapter 34<br>In the low light coming from the bathroom, both women stared at each other: Neeva at what had been added, Munroe at what had been taken away.<br>“You look different,” Neeva said.<br>“So do you.” Younger. More helpless. Tinier, if such a thing was possible.<br>“Trying to wash out the curls only gave me a clown wig,” Neeva said. “I figured this was better than being reminded of them every time I looked in a mirror.” <br>She lowered her eyes. “What do you think?”<br>“Kind of gives you an emaciated concentration-camp-survivor look,” Munroe said. “Or maybe chemo.”<br>Neeva half smiled and her cheeks flushed. “It’s sort of a disguise.”<br>Munroe stood, secured the weapon in her waistband. Ran her palm over Neeva’s shaved head. “I’ll help you with the spots you missed,” she said.<br>Munroe put Neeva’s head ove...