of for a month.
“Maybe I should cancel,” she said, not looking at me. “What if it looks gross in the pictures?”
That was the moment something shifted in me. I had been treating it as a prom problem, a cosmetic nuisance that might ruin a photo, when my daughter was trying to tell me something felt off. I put down my phone.
“Let me see it properly.”
Under the kitchen light it looked different from how I’d brushed it off. The white patch had a faint powdery texture, and
