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Darren awoke that Saturday morning with a bit of a start. His first thought was to go back to sleep, but he also remembered the strange development as far as his hair went. The white stragglers in his otherwise brown hair were very odd when he saw them yesterday. For starters, he was only sixteen years old, and while it wasn't unheard of, white hairs at sixteen were definitely well outside of the norm.
Darren got to his feet with a grunt. Oddly enough he felt tired, weak even- as if he hadn't gotten a wink of rest.
With another grunt, he made his way over to his mirror, where his face frowned back at him. Geez, he wasn't looking so good. He looked even more tired than he felt. The first word that came to mind was "wrinkles" but he was weary about calling the lines on his face that. More likely than not, Darren was merely coming down with a case of something. His hair seemed a little whiter as well, overall perhaps half a shade lighter, with a few more white ones peppered in. It wasn't all that bad yet, but pretty much anyone who knew him would be aware of the changes immediately. More disconcerting (perhaps), was that he felt softer, as if he was losing muscle. A slight bloating sensation had filled his midsection.
"Oh, I am definitely coming down with something," he said, putting a hand to his forehead, mostly just to obscure the worry lines that had collected there overnight.
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