"I’ve got an anon."
Preemptively rolling her eyes, she maneuvered her mouse to the mail symbol, clicking it.
Inside was a single question.
‘Do you have hair under your towel?’
She laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
Queen Iman laughed so hard, she began to twerk. Whipping her head about, her hijab flying off, she started twerking so fast she launched into the depths of hyperspace at light speed, leaving an echo behind as she went.