My workday progressed uneventfully, but my mind was doing laps, trying to solve the puzzle of my confusion over Kael. I went through the list of pros and cons—what was right and what was wrong about him—and only felt more indecisive. Maybe there was more to the story than I allowed Kael to explain? I considered texting him to see if he was busy, to see if he still wanted a chance to explain himself, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I had three appointments left, and after giving the first two clients their treatments, I typed a text to Kael and deleted it, typed and deleted again, then tossed my phone into the drawer where I kept the dry towels.

After the last client, I retrieved the phone from the drawer and typed the text to Kael again. Something simple and not desperate, I reminded myself. I just wanted to know if he was really going to lose his discharge, that was it. Mostly.

Hey, do you want to come over after work today? I get off in an hour. No pressure.

Before I could stop myself again, I sent it, and before I could hide my phone the little typing bubbles on Kael’s side appeared. I held my breath and they disappeared. I waited a few more seconds and nothing came. Great, now I look even more like an idiot. I shouldn’t have texted him. I definitely, certainly, surely, truly shouldn’t have fucking texted him. Even if he was nice to my brother.

I was so glad this long day of work was finally ending. Other than my scheduled appointments, the salon had been slow all day. I was the only one with evening clients, and I agreed to close up. There were no more clients on the schedule sheet, and I doubted anyone would be walking past the mostly-closed stores within the next twenty minutes, so I straightened up my room for the night and got stuff ready for the morning. The cleaning company had been in the prior evening and everything was in pretty good shape. I just had to organize a few things and make sure all the candles were out and clean towels were stocked. I turned the lights off, one by one, before locking the back door—padlock, too—and shutting off the front desk light.

When I saw a shadow approach the entrance, I practically jumped out of my skin. I think I may have screamed a little, too. I stood still, trying to catch my breath and slow my heart rate. The shadow moved closer into view, and that’s when I saw that it was a man—a young one, but not a boy. Maybe a soldier, given the haircut. It was a little late for someone to just pass by. And I didn’t recognize him, which made me uneasy.