I’m going to yell something, Rob thought, so he did. “Big hair in the morning!” He spread his arms out wide and grinned a wide grin as he yelled it. And Carter turned away from the television, a soccer match, the players so tiny, so crisp, so ineffectual on that big green field full of moiré patterns. The artful mowing of the field. Carter squinted, Carter squinted a lot. “What?” Carter said. She propped up her head on her right hand, fingers tangled in the hair around her ear, smothered by it. In her left hand she held what looked like a violin bow. He made a mental note to ask her about it. “My hair?” Carter said, and didn’t look happy.