He flicked out his razor and polishing rag.

Running one thin hand along the blade, he brushed off the dirt and stubble of the man he had just shaved. A good customer, though he hadn’t been much of a conversationalist. He hadn’t minded, an old man like that often had little left to say.

The razor was clean now, happy to be run along the sharpening stone. He always kept his tools in pristine condition, every blade was sharp and mirror sparkly clean. Cleanliness is a virtue,  the barber believed, especially when every handle and mirror frame was silver and every surface a glossy white. The windows were always clear and spotless, as the sunlight put his anxious customers at ease. Nothing was wasted, nothing out of place. Once the razor was clean and sharp, he placed it back into its case and retired it to its drawer. Then he exhumed the broom from its closet, and began to sweep the floor. The dust was invisible now to most customers, but the dirt and hair built quickly on the shiny white floor. He looked up as he was sweeping and noticed a black fly on the wall, stark against the white wall. Insects were always trying to get in, but the barber was always vigilant. They may harass his customers once they left, but in this place they were not yet welcome.

He was wiping the spot on the wall where the fly had been when a shadow flickered across his shop. The bell jingled at the door and clicking footsteps entered his shop. The entrant paused for a moment, then rang the second bell on the reception desk. 

The barber kept wiping for a moment, then slowly stood and inspected his work. Satisfied, he turned gracefully and saw a woman, middle aged clearly and looking quite confused. He put on his best smile and glided over to the desk, setting his hands upon the desk clasped together.

“Evening, madam.”

The woman looked at everything in the shop but him. The barber smiled wider, then bent low to reach her eye level. “It’s bright out…” she muttered.

“Everything alright, ma’am?”

Her eyes passed over his, then snapped into focus.

“It’s still bright out.”

The barber smiled warmly. “The sun shines late here, for whoever needs to find their way.”

She blinked slowly. “Uhm… where… is this?”

He drew up to his full height. “A humble barber shop. I do all manner of stylings, cuts, anything you may need before you continue on your way, miss…?”

She stared up at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open “Rachel,” she mumbled.

He spread his arms wide. “Miss Rachel, why don’t you come sit down? You seem tired, and I’m sure your journey here was long.” 

Miss Rachel walked forward slowly as the barber moved behind her, one hand hovering above her back. He guided her to the middle right chair, but as they reached the glazed look left her eyes and she sat down with purpose.

The barber reached into a drawer and pulled out a white barber cape, clasping around the woman’s neck. As he completed the task he asked, “So what shall I do for you today, madam?” 

She thought for a moment. “You know, I’ve let it get out of control. Can you just clean my edges up, maybe style it some too?”

A smile stretched the barber’s face. “Of course,” he rumbled. He reached into another drawer and retrieved a small black case, spreading it out to show the myriad of silver tools. He plucked a shiny pair of scissors from its bindings, procured a spray bottle and set to work. 

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“So, Miss Rachel, how have you been as of late? What made you decide to come in today, instead of another day?”

Her face scrunched up. “I have to be honest, it’s been rough these past few weeks. My kids are getting older, my youngest is about to move out, and I’ve been struggling with them moving on.”

“Getting ready for an empty nest then?” 

“No, I’ve had an empty nest. My husband and I divorced a long time ago and my kids went to live with him. They’d see me once a week for a while, but as time passed they just…”

The barber’s mouth turned to a line as he placed a hand on one side of her head. “You grew apart.” 

Her head turned to the side at his beckoning. She said nothing. Then, “I went to their graduations, both of them. The oldest didn’t even know I was there, but my youngest… he saw me. In the crowd, afterward. Looked straight into my eyes, stared for a moment. I thought he was going to come over, but he turned to the side and started talking to a friend.”

“You didn’t go after him?” He tapped her chin.

She raised her head. “I would have, once upon a time. I wanted to as well. But something in that look, something in me, told me I shouldn’t. I didn’t want to know what he’d say.”

He put his hand on the back of her head. “You should talk to him. Before he leaves.”

She tipped her head down and sighed flatly. “I know. It's not like he’d even be angry, he never was an angry kid, and even after everything he still didn’t mind talking to me, but he’s so much older now. He’s not the kid anymore. He’s not my kid anymore. He grew up without me.”

The barber stood back and inspected his work. “You are very strong willed. I would be furious at the husband myself, and devastated about my kids.”

She laughed a little, and the barber paused at hearing emotion in her voice for the first time. “I was, and I am. But got so mad at him I couldn’t see the bottle in my hands half the time. He loved them, provided for them, while I blamed him for our problems and drank myself to sleep. Kids aren’t blind. Especially my youngest, he was always so bright.” She smiled warmly.

The barber removed his arms from in front of her face, the scissors making their final cut. “What do you think?”

She turned towards the mirror, expression unchanging. “I look sober,” she laughed.

The barber grinned. “It is nice.”

She sighed deeply. “It is. Feels nice too.” Her voice dropped low. “First time in a long time.”

Miss Rachel stood up suddenly. “You know what? I’m going to get myself cleaned up some more, then I’m going to call my son. Maybe he won’t pick up, but maybe he will.” She turned and looked up at the barber. “What do I owe you?” 

He smiled and turned his palms forward. “Just one quarter” 

Her mouth dropped. “One quarter? That’s a steal!”

“It’s all I charge for crossing through.”

“But how do you make your money?”

The barber grinned again. “I need not make it here.”

She tilted her head a moment, then her eyebrows shot up. “You run this place for fun?”

“For the people I meet, it is always a pleasure.”

She set her jaw, then snapped open her purse. “Well then,” she affirmed, “one quarter it is.” Miss Rachel procured one shiny coin and deposited it into the barber’s boney hand, which he withdrew into his pocket. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Rachel. I do hope you see your son again someday.”

“I hope so too. I’ll have to come back here again someday, tell you how it goes!”

He smiled slightly, with the corners of his eyebrows turned down. “That would be nice.”

Miss Rachel set her shoulders, then opened the door to the barber shop. Sunlight flooded the room more even than usual, as she stepped out into the world beyond. “Goodbye, and thank you… hey, I never got your name!” she shouted. 

He clasped his hands together. “Michael,” he shouted back.

“Goodbye, Michael!” she called back. Miss Rachel disappeared into the sunlight as the door closed, the jingling bell echoing in the empty space left behind.

The barber stood alone in the center of the room. He stayed still a moment, before turning to retrieve his broom. The sunlight did not flicker as she left.