“Look, can you stop staring?” Murphy could feel eyes drawn invariably back to where he was sitting, struggling with his hair in a vain attempt to untie his braids. They served a purpose in the Dead Zone, but now formed an annoying barrier: he couldn’t quite wash away the dust and sand from his scalp. That, and his hair had matted around the braids. Ridiculous. “You know, you could actually help, but no. Just stand there.”
