Plaits in theory seem to hold the threads of your hair together so tightly. But they’re loose, tangled, fragile creations that with one sudden misplaced head turn consequently fall apart.
Plaits are relatable.
What a disgusting metaphor she thought as she continued to plait her hair now in tears.
Quite a playful, ridulous bit of nothing. It reflects how my thought process quickly deteriorates. I feel the ending echos millenial disgust. The name is derrived from the Hunger Games.