A mako guda, na gwada wani wig daban-daban kowace rana—mai farin gashi, ruwan hoda, mai murfi, gajere—kuma ya kasance tafiya mai ban mamaki.
"Har ma mafi kyau!" ta amsa, cikin ladabi. Amma ba a daɗe ba sai na ji gashi ya fara kulluwa da ruɗewa — matsala ce ta gama gari da wigs...