Her salon staff, who had been watching the process, couldn’t hold back their laughter. The sound echoed in the small space, making the situation even more uncomfortable. The old woman, sensing the ridicule, gave an awkward, sheepish laugh, trying to mask her discomfort.
“I’m so sorry,” Emma said, her voice low and apologetic as she handed the woman a mirror.
The woman looked at herself, the forced smile never leaving her face. “It’s… different,” she said diplomatically, though her eyes betrayed her disappointment. She paid for the cut and left, her posture a little more slumped than when she had entered.