It was a crisp, fragrant autumn morning at the salon. Mia was the first to arrive. She looked over the day’s appointments, then jotted down on little heart-shaped sticky notes what the others needed to know about their first client. She smoothed one onto the wall above the hook where Nico’s apron hung, and the other onto the top of Lara’s UV lamp. She loved that even small things like this let her show how much she cared.

"Good thing I brought a scarf with me," a sharp, high voice sliced through the quiet of the salon. Lara jumped. She hadn't heard the door open, so the guest's voice caught her off guard. Mia was in the back, pulling towels out of the dryer. The tall young woman, barely into her twenties, with thin, tattooed eyebrows, scanned the salon with a stern look. Her lips pursed, the muscles in her jaw tightening.

Mia shifted from foot to foot on the sidewalk and craned her neck, eager to be the first to greet Rosita, the salon’s elderly regular. The receptionist's fine, bleached-blonde hair kept catching in the light summer breeze drifting up from the river. In her pale blue blouse and slightly darker linen trousers, she looked like she'd been placed there on purpose, just to liven up the dull street.

The warm summer rain drummed softly and steadily against the salon's glass door and front window. Mia's sleepy face brightened when she saw on the monitor that their first client would be Vera. At least Vera would shake them awake.

The forty-something man settled into the shampoo chair, wearing a faded football jersey and knee-length cargo pants. He wore a belt bag slung across his chest, its strap stretched tight over his protruding belly. He'd gelled his thinning hair until it shone, and on his thick wrist sat a digital watch so large that Mia could have read the time off it from the reception desk.

August arrived on hot winds. The sun scorched the skin mercilessly, baked the pavement, and made the mornings unbearable. Mia set the air conditioner to twenty-four degrees.

That particular Thursday morning, Lara's first client had also booked appointments with Nico and Gael. It wasn't often that someone signed up with all three of them back to back. Mia had carefully worked out how much time each of them would need at minimum, then arranged the schedule so the woman would have only a few minutes between treatments.

Lara gently set Rosita's foot on her knee. The old woman wiggled her toes playfully, turning her heel this way and that on the thick white towel — less like a woman past seventy and more like an impatient little girl waiting eagerly to be pampered.

Lara prepared the foot bath, set the water to a pleasant warmth, and checked that everything they needed for the pedicure was in place. She wiped down the color palette and quickly scanned the little bottles, making sure every shade was still on the shelf.

Mia opened the guest-list app to see who had how many clients that day. Her coworkers leaned against the reception desk.