Street lights flickered on and painted the city in their glow. The light covered rows of outlets and restaurants, as well as a small hair salon occupied by one Francis Bonnefoy. Francis payed no attention to the lights. He'd already seen them come on countless times before, so any dazzle they once held was long gone. Besides, he had cleaning to do. He swept clumps of hair into one big pile while humming to himself. It wasn't his favorite part of the job, but he still felt strangely relaxed when he cleaned. Just as he started shoveling the pile into a trash can, the door swung open. A man with shaggy, blonde hair and bouquet of roses stepped up to the desk.
"I'll be with you in just a moment," Francis called. He dumped a last clump of hair into the trash and took his position behind the desk. "Do you have an appointment?" he asked. The customer shook his head.
"Is that alright?" he asked.
"Perfectly fine. There's no wait, anyways. Nobody really comes in this time of day. Now, what all are you looking for?" Francis said.
"A trim and a wash, please. Nothing fancy."
"Perfect. Step right this way." Francis made his way over to the back and grabbed a barber's gown. The customer set his roses on the desk and followed. Francis put the gown on him and lead him to a row of sinks. "You can have a seat right here, Sir," he said.
"Please, call me Arthur," the man said as he sat down.
"Very well, Arthur." Francis adjusted the chair so that Arthur's head was hovering just under the faucet. He turned on the water. "Let me know if it's too hot," he said. He put a bit of shampoo into his hands and started massaging Arthur's scalp. His hair was greasy, as if he hadn't showered in a few days, but Francis was barely bothered. With the movements of an expert, he lathered and rinsed Arthur's hair until it was clean. He dried it just enough so that he wasn't dripping, but not so much that his hair would be hard to work with. He directed him to a salon chair that faced a vanity. Francis reached into a drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors.
"How much do you want trimmed?" he asked.
"Just snip off the split ends and stuff," Arthur replied.
"Alright, then. Makes my job easy," Francis said with a soft chuckle. Arthur smiled a bit.
"Do you do many complex haircuts?" he asked. Francis shrugged.
"Sometimes I have to dye a certain way, but that's as hard as it gets around here. Not many people stop by at all, and most are just looking for a trim." He started to snip away at Arthur's locks with perfect precision. Arthur kept his eyes on the mirror and watched.
"That's too bad. You seem pretty good."
"Well, it's just a small place. Most people barely notice it. But, as long as I'm making enough to support my son, I'm happy."
"I know the feeling. My son, Alfred, is what keeps me going." Arthur had a sad sort of smile on his face as he spoke. "He can be a little bugger sometimes, though. Just last week he flushed my partner's watch down the toilet." Francis chuckled.
"Goodness, what a troublemaker. My Mathieu hasn't done anything like that, thank god."
"He'll grow into it, trust me. Alfred was so nice until he turned five." Francis shrugged.
"Whatever you say, but I think I know my own kid." Arthur opened his mouth to make a snappy reply, but then he remembered that Francis had scissors dangerously close to his neck. He decided to shift the conversation.
"So, is your kid in school yet?" he asked.
"He's in first grade right now. Oh, and he's doing so well! His handwriting is stelar."
"Really? Alfred's in second grade. His teacher says that he's reading at a third grade level." Francis just laughed and did his best to finish the haircut quickly. It was done soon enough. Arthur stood, took off the barber's gown, and thanked him.
"You did a fine job. I think my partner will be very pleased," he said as he made his way back to the desk.
"Yes, I'm sure she'll love it." Francis said. He glanced at the price chart and hit a few buttons on the cash register.
"He, actually. Now, how much do I owe you?" Francis grinned. It was always fun to meet another gay person, even if only for a moment.
"Fifteen dollars." Arthur fished out his wallet and handed over the cash.
"Have a nice day," he said. He grabbed his flowers and headed for the door. Francis waved to him as he left. He stood at the desk for a while after that, staring at the place where Arthur once stood. A warm feeling filled his stomach and chest as he thought of their little interactions. He wondered if Arthur lived nearby and if their paths would ever cross again. An alarm on his phone beeped and yanked him out of his thoughts. He sighed, turned off the alarm, and went back to work.