Nabila could not hear it but she knew the shower was turned on now. Her husband was in there, alone, without her. His lynx shower gel making soapy suds; he would leave his wet towel on the bathroom floor too and close the door behind him giving no chance for the steamy room to clear out. She missed having to scold him about that. Now their shower times were so different they may as well have separate wash rooms. At lunch he sat opposite her on their dining table and his hair stood in disorganised curls from the forceful towel drying method he had adopted. Nabila looked on as it dried and the curls magically became discreet. The ridges of his hair cut tapered down to his thin sideburns which slimmed to a very thin goatee shaping his jaw line. Yes, his hair is the first thing she noticed all those years ago, and still was what made her stare. She loved the variations of brown within it: rusty, sandy, bronze, and russet. He hated it and had wanted it dyed black. She loved it; especially in the sunlight. The shades were easily distinguishable then.