In the Stylist’s Chair
The salon was quiet for early afternoon. It was a nice little place, had an upscale feel with wood laminate floors throughout, cool pastels at least I think they were pastels. The walls weren’t white, I was sure about that.
A receptions desk sat empty save for the phone and an open appointment book, the waiting area to my left was cozy with comfy overstuffed chairs and the latest hair magazines.
The soft squeak of shoes drew my attention. A woman, dressed in a royal blue top and low rise jeans offered me a smile.