Run away

You scramble out of the booth and flee back down the street. The wig bounces and bobs as you move and you can feel it pull gently against your scalp as the wind pulls it back.

After a few minutes of running you finally stop to catch your breath. Bent over with your hands on your knees, you can see the bright red curls hanging on the sides of your head. You stand up and run your hands through your hair, expecting your finger to slip beneath the wig. They don't. In fact, there doesn't seem to be any kind if seam or separation to indicate you are wearing a wig.

With a gulp you gently grab a strand of red hair and trace it back directly to your scalp and you realize that this is, somehow, your real hair now.