Nail Salon

She took her time selecting the perfect red.  A List by Essie was the winner.  Sometimes the name matters, she thought.  If she was prepping for an important occasion, she liked to choose a name that would embolden her, that would somehow fit the person(a) she was going for that evening.  Absolutely Shore, Neo Whimsical, Wicked, East Hampton Cottage.  Other times, she was just reaching for a bottle that seemed recently opened.  One that wouldn't clump and would apply smoothly.  Such was the case today.  She'd never been to this salon before and was the only soul in the place.  Must've just opened at ten.

It was dead quiet, and the little nail technician/proprietress turned on the radio.  Christmas music filled the space.  The woman didn't speak to her or ask her any questions, so she turned to face out towards the window.  Felt a little awkward to stare at the woman while she was working.  Something so intimate in the act of massaging another's hands.  "Silver Bells" came on and a memory pushed into her mind.

She was back in college, tucked away in the costume shop.  It was drizzling back then, too.  The shop was located right off of the stage.  Most of her time was spent inside that theatre building, and she especially liked to be there on rainy days.  The costume designer was out of town and her much-maligned assistant was running the class.  Everyone was silent, but seemed content.  She looked out the small windows near the ceiling.  The needle pushed into the fabric, and back out, in, and out.  She was hemming and the little "cross the street and pick up your neighbor" instruction would occasionally come to mind.  She felt pride when her stitches were tiny and even.  It was soothing, didn't feel like work.  Christmas music was playing and she thought that soon she'd be back in her hometown.  She'd see old friends, try to ignore the distance that had been creeping between them.  She'd hope to see an old love, would stop by places they used to frequent together.  Most times that would result in a "He was just here!" and she'd think to herself Always a little bit behind, now aren't you?

Years later, that thought still pulsed through her mind.

She stepped out onto the street, her nails polished a classic red.  Maybe it was taking her a little longer than most, but she was finally on her way.