Time for a Haircut

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The spinning red and white pole had been tempting you for a couple weeks now. It was right next a very inviting window, which you had stolen a glance into more than a handful of times. It was hard to not steal a peak when barber chairs and falling hair was involved.

But today was different. You were going to give this place a shot. You took a breath and approached the glass door. It opened with a jingle over head. The inside was clean and well kept. There was a small number of leather barber chairs, arranged in a row along the tiled floor. Your eyes scan the relatively empty space, until your gaze lands on the one occupied chair in the place.

A client was seated in the last chair in the row. Behind him stood one of the stylists of the salon. The tall barber had short, black, spiked hair, with a hint of stubble along his jaw. He was his late twenties, most likely. His eyes were focused on his client, which he was in the midst of shearing with a pair of clippers.

"Hello!" came a voice. You looked to the side and finally noticed a reception desk nearby. Seated at the desk was another man, this one with a clean shaven face and wispy blond hair. His face was charming and youthful. He smiled up to you.

"Are you here for an appointment?" he asked.

"No, I'm afraid I'm a walk in. Do you have any openings?"

"Yes, we do. Shane will be open in a few minutes," the receptionist informed. He motioned toward the black haired stylist.

"And Felix is open right now, if you don't want to wait," he said. You arched a brow, since there was only one stylist currently working.

"Who's Felix?"

"Me," the receptionist answered with a grin.


You decide to...

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