BabyMelo || BabyMelo || Meladze

At one point, the girl grew tired of looking at her dull appearance. Every time she looked in the mirror, she saw the same reflection—nice features, fair hair, but without the sparkle, without that same brightness.

After a couple of days of deliberation, she finally found the perfect option. A beautiful blue-gray shade that she thought would look perfect on her already bleached hair. The decision was final and irrevocable.
When she asked her best friend Gogi if he knew anyone in the field, she received a completely unexpected answer: "I'll do it myself." Gogi spoke with such enthusiasm and self-confidence about how awesome he was at this that she had almost no doubts.

The appointed day arrived. Goga was already standing at the door, holding a bag containing blue and light blue paint, a paintbrush, and a plastic bowl. They switched on a random channel on the TV to keep the boredom at bay and create a relaxed atmosphere, and got to work.

The girl sat motionless on the stool, like a statue, while Goga mixed paint in a bowl. He'd forgotten to buy gloves, of course, so he'd had to make do without them, which, as it turned out, was quite reckless. They ended up getting everything dirty: Goga's hands, which now resembled an artist's palette, and the girl's T-shirt, which was stained with blue spots.

With his characteristic carelessness, but with visible care, the guy dyed her hair. He dyed a strand of his own hair too—as a memento, as he put it, as if leaving his autograph on a work of art. The girl sat in anticipation, watching him and her image gradually transform.

"Goga, how much longer do we have to wait?" she asked, glancing impatiently at her watch.

The guy looked up from his phone, which he seemed to be very engrossed in, and looked at her.

• About another half hour. No less.