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April 21, 2009
I didn't need my sister to thunder through the front door and bolt to the kitchen toward vodka haven in order to gauge that day's status of her relationship with D. I didn't need to see him skulking a few safe yards behind her. All I needed to see was the length of his hair. Given the ferocity of her entrance, I knew his hair was cropped.

I never knew which came first -- the arguments or the hair-cutting. Did he cut his hair in retaliation for a fight? Or was a haircut the cause of the fight?

Continued 4/22