My shift was almost over when the old man walked into the salon.
I remember the exact time because I’d just looked at the clock. 6:52 p.m. Eight minutes until I could take off my apron, go home, eat cereal for dinner, and fall asleep in front of the TV.
I didn’t know that in eight minutes, my whole life was going to split open.
He came in quietly. He held the door so it wouldn’t bang.
His clothes were old and dirty. A brown corduroy jacket worn shiny at the elbows. Gray pants with mud on the cuffs. His gray hair hung past his ears in tangled pieces, and his beard was patchy and uneven, like he’d tried to trim it himself with something that wasn’t scissors.
But his eyes were what I noticed.
They were pale blue and very kind, with deep lines at the corners, the kind you only get from smiling a lot at some point in your life. He reminded me so much of my grandfather that for a second I just stood there holding a comb.
Grandpa Walt had been dead for six years. But he used to stand exactly like that. A little bent. Hands folded in front of him. Like he was apologizing for taking up room.
The old man walked up to the front desk.
Kayla, our receptionist, looked up from her phone. She didn’t smile. Kayla only smiled at people with designer handbags.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I hope so.” His voice was soft and a little rough. “I have a job interview tomorrow. I was hoping to get a haircut.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill. He smoothed it on the counter with his fingers. “I can pay a dollar today. Maybe the rest next week?”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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