Salon story

The salon on the corner of Fifth and Maple was abuzz with its usual hum of blow dryers and quiet chatter. Kira Kosarin, glowing as always, walked in with her signature long, luscious brunette locks flowing down her back. Heads turned, but not for long; after all, it wasn’t unusual for celebrities to frequent this high-end establishment.

The receptionist greeted her warmly and escorted her to a plush leather chair near the washing station. “We’ll have someone with you shortly,” she said with a smile before disappearing into the back room.

Moments later, a man appeared, looking as though he belonged there. Dressed sharply in a black button-up shirt and neatly pressed pants, he exuded a quiet confidence. He smiled warmly at Kira. “Hi, I’m Robert. I’ll be taking care of you today.”

Kira smiled back, assuming he was one of the salon’s stylists. “Nice to meet you, Robert.”

He led her to the washing station and gently reclined her chair. “Comfortable?” he asked softly.

“Perfect,” Kira replied, closing her eyes as warm water cascaded over her scalp. Robert’s hands were firm yet gentle as he worked the shampoo into her hair. His fingers massaged her scalp with just the right amount of pressure, sending waves of relaxation through her. The salon’s signature lavender-scented shampoo filled the air as he lathered her hair, running his fingers through the thick strands over and over, ensuring every inch was thoroughly cleaned.

“Your hair is incredible,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he rinsed the shampoo out. Kira chuckled, flattered. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s a lot to manage sometimes.”

“Not a problem for me,” he replied smoothly, applying conditioner and combing it through her strands with his fingers. He worked methodically, his hands gliding through her hair like an artist shaping clay. Kira didn’t notice anything unusual; his movements were precise and professional, though his touch lingered slightly longer than typical.

Once her hair was rinsed, Robert wrapped it in a plush towel and led her back to the styling chair. As he began brushing her hair, section by section, Kira appreciated his attention to detail. He seemed to take genuine joy in the process, his fingers occasionally trailing through her hair as he brushed.

“So, how would you like it styled?” Robert asked.

“Just a simple blowout would be great,” Kira said. Robert nodded and set to work. He dried her hair carefully, using a round brush to create soft waves. His hands worked with practiced ease, fluffing her hair gently at the roots and smoothing it down in perfect sections. By the time he finished, Kira’s hair looked like it belonged on a magazine cover—silky, voluminous, and effortlessly elegant.

“All done,” he said, stepping back. Kira turned to the mirror and gasped. “Wow, this is amazing, Robert. Thank you so much!”

Robert smiled, gave her a polite nod, and then… walked out. Not toward the break room or reception desk, but straight out the front door. Kira blinked in confusion but shrugged, assuming he had somewhere to be.

A moment later, the salon owner, Marcia, came out of the back room, looking puzzled. “Kira, I’m so sorry for the wait. Let me get someone to—” She stopped mid-sentence, staring at Kira’s perfectly styled hair. “Wait… did someone already take care of you?”

“Yeah, Robert did,” Kira replied. “He was great.”

Marcia frowned. “Robert? We don’t have anyone named Robert working here.”

Kira’s smile faded. “Wait… what? He seemed so professional.”

Realization dawned on Marcia’s face, and she hurried to the front door, looking out into the street. Robert was long gone. She turned back to Kira, her expression a mix of shock and apology. “I’m so sorry, Kira. I think… I think he wasn’t a stylist. He must’ve just walked in.”

Kira stared at her reflection, a mix of disbelief and amusement crossing her face. “Well… I guess he did a great job anyway.”

Marcia shook her head in bewilderment. “That’s… definitely a first.”

As the absurdity of the situation set in, Kira couldn’t help but laugh. “Only me, huh?”

Marcia chuckled nervously. “Let’s call it a unique experience.”

And with that, the mystery of “Robert” became a tale that would be told in the salon for years to come.