The next day proved to be as exciting at the last, only the thunder had decided to carry through to the morning, so that made it all the more exciting.

We got midway through the day before Kas became so bored with sitting in their chair, that they actually willingly cleaned the entire salon top to bottom.

I excused myself for another smoke break, taking my sad packed lunch of two pre-made frozen sandwiches and a banana that I suspected had surpassed use as sustenance.

I fell into my usual pattern of pulling my cigarette and lighter out of my pocket as I sat, lighting it up, then collecting my flowerpot. I exhaled the poison cloud slowly and deliberately.

“You shouldn’t smoke those.” A deep, smooth voice said to my left.

I let out a literal squeak of fear and threw myself against the opposite railing from where the voice had come from.

I cautiously leaned forward and caught sight of a black, full-length trench coat.

“You! The splasher!” I pointed my cigarette at the splasher with all the condemnation of a middle-aged alcoholic woman.

“I am sorry for that.” The figure said. Leaning its hunched figure forward in what I realized this time was some sort of bow.

“It’s fine, I guess. I got the rest of the day off.”

“Glad I could help, then.” The voiced rolled from the deep hood. “I’ll try not to trouble you again in the future.”

While the man spoke, I studied what I could about him. He was very tall. Even though he was hunched deeply forward, that couldn’t hide his sheer size. I still couldn’t make out a face in the recesses of the hood, but I could see the matted hair that stuck out from it; jet-black, thick, very long and in desperate need of a wash. The man was leaning against the dumpster with crossed arms and I could just see his large, pale hands.

After a moment I cleared my throat. “You pissed off Mr. Sorrel yesterday.”

A pause, then the man answered. “Yes. I didn’t mean to. I was looking for food.”

“I figured.” I nodded, exhaling smoke. “Uh, you hungry?”

The hood tilted toward me, I held out one of the pre-made sandwiches. “Here, it’s not a lot but it’s something.”

The man cautiously moved closer, and a white hand reached out and took the wrapped sandwich. The sandwich was already small, but it looked minuscule in the man’s giant grip. “What is this?” The hood asked.

“Peanut butter and jelly.”

The hood tilted down to stare at the wrapping. He carefully opened the package with only a little bit of a struggle, given the disparity between the size of his hands and the package, and brought the sandwich to the opening of the hood. He sniffed a few times, before the sandwich disappeared into the hood’s shadow.

“It isn’t bad.” The deep voice said after a moment.

“It isn’t good.” I laughed. “But it’s easier than remembering to make lunch before you leave the house.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah no problem. Enjoy.” I smiled as a finished my cigarette and stuffed the butt into the ashes of the clay pot. “I have to go back inside. Try and stay dry today.” I stood and turned to go back into the salon.

“You too.” The voice said softly.

“See ya.”

I went inside and washed my hands, then dug in my bag sitting in the break area for a stick of gum and the bottle of cologne I brought with me. I spritzed it on to try and cover the smell of smoke before heading back to my station. The cologne was more for Kas’ benefit than any potential customer, seeing as we had none.

“Were you talking to someone out there?” Kas asked, not looking up from their phone as I threw myself into my station’s chair.

“Yeah, the homeless guy. He was back today, hanging out in the alley.” I shrugged, pulling my phone out of my pocket.

“It’s a guy?”

“I’m assuming. Really tall, super deep voice.”

“Hm,” Kas looked up from their phone, “look at you making friends.”

“Crazy, right?” I rolled my eyes. “Gave him one of my sandwiches.”

Kas sighed, “Never feed a stray, babe. They’ll keep coming back.”

“Very funny.”

“We have an appointment tomorrow. Well,” Kas corrected, “You do. Mrs. Thomas.” They continued in mildly annoyed voice, “She requested you specifically.”

“Oh, joy. What time?”

“Noon. She wanted you for Saturday, but I told her that’s your day off.”

“Saturday can’t come soon enough.”

“Oh,” Kas laughed, “you got plans?”

“Shut up.” I smirked. “I’d rather sit at home all day then here.”

“Sure, but since you’re off, that means I have to close with Antonia on Saturday and have dinner with Aunt Elena after.”

“Maybe Elena will have a check for you. She does that every once in a while.” I shrugged.

The day dragged on with more idle conversation. At one point, Kas tried to convince me to let them bleach my hair blond, but I countered with an offer to dye their hair a natural color instead of fluorescent purple. That earned me a clipper guard to the head. We closed without seeing a single customer, walked home, ate dinner, and went to bed.

Friday was much like the two days beforehand, except the rain had finally let up a bit. Mrs. Thomas showed up twenty minutes late for her appointment which was annoying but didn’t really matter since we had no other customers. She greeted me warmly and gave Kas a perfunctory nod. I gave her the usual wash, cut, and style she always got and sent her on her way. At least she tipped well.

“Smoke break.” I announced as soon as the salon door closed.

“Death stick time.” Kas announced back in a mocking tone.

I headed to the back. I pulled the pack of cigarettes out and my lighter. Placing a cigarette between my lips I flicked the yellow lighter, it clicked but no flame. I tried again, and again.

“Damn it,” I mumbled through closed lips. I kept an extra lighter in the flower pot, so I sat down to grab it.

I picked up the flower pot, and went to set it down next to me but I stopped. The garden of used cigarette butts was gone. The dirt and ash had been replaced with fresh soil, and a carefully positioned flowering plant now sat in the dirt. Hooked between the stems was a piece of paper. I grabbed the paper, and in beautifully written, if oddly large letters, it simply said “Maybe today is a good day to quit.”

I scoffed at the note and pulled the unlit cigarette from my lips. “Maybe it is.”

I stared at the small plant for a few minutes; small blossoms of white flowers were sprouting from the green stems.

“Hello, Cole,” Mr. Sorrel’s voice came from the dumpster next to me. He was dropping a bag in it and smiling at me.

“Hey, Mr. Sorrel.” I held up a hand in greeting.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Kas just playing a joke on me, I guess.” I shrugged.

“Well, you be careful out here. We’ve had some bum hanging out in the alley.”

“Yeah, I saw him the last couple days. Big guy.”

“Hm, big but scared.” Mr. Sorrel snorted, “runs like hell when you catch him. Have a good day, Cole. Stay safe.”

Mr. Sorrel waved as he headed back to his restaurant. Since my spare lighter was gone, I couldn’t smoke anyway, so I went back inside.

“That was quick.” Kas noted.

“Very funny,” I glared, “Where’d you get the plant?”

“What plant?”

“That you put in the pot. And where’s my spare lighter?”

“Hell should I know. I don’t touch your Garden of Mistakes.” Kas shrugged, turning back to their phone.

“You didn’t clean it out and put the plant in it?” I raised a doubting eyebrow.

“Wasn’t me. I swear.”

I glanced back toward the back door, confused. So who did?