Despite FFN's weird word-count (now affected by this note), Microsoft Word, AO3, and manual counting assure me that it is precisely 100 words long, and therefore really a drabble.
Brittany dyed her hair at ten o'clock on the second Wednesday of a month she had forgotten. When she touched it, the dye stained her fingers like ash, like destruction.
The girl in the mirror looked like a washed-out Santana, her eyes and skin too light. It hadn't worked; it was the only way she could ever have Santana with her, and she had failed nevertheless.
Kurt just sighed over the phone, and told her he would be over in half an hour, but he wasn't the one she wanted, great kisser or not.
But Santana didn't call her back.