The Empty Half Hour

By three o'clock, the cheese in Mara's sandwich had gone soft. She had made it at seven, before opening her small hair salon on Willow Lane.

Her morning appointments had run late. Then a regular customer had arrived without booking. Mara had fitted him in, as she usually did. Now her stomach made a noise while she cut the next customer's hair.

"Was that your chair?" he asked.

"I wish it was," Mara said.

That evening, she opened her appointment book. Every day looked like a row of tightly packed teeth. In the middle of each page, she drew a box from twelve thirty to one.

Inside, she wrote: LUNCH.

On Monday, she explained the new hours when people called. One caller booked elsewhere because she needed a lunchtime appointment. Mara nearly rubbed out the box. Instead, she put her pencil down.

At twelve twenty-five, her regular customer Davi appeared in the doorway, carrying his bicycle helmet.

"Just the sides?" he asked."Ten minutes?"

Mara looked at the clock. His hair would take twenty minutes, and there were towels to change afterward.

"I can do two fifteen," she said.

"I'm working then."

"So am I. But I'm free at nine tomorrow."

He checked his phone, then nodded."Nine, please."

At twelve thirty, Mara turned the door sign and sat on the little bench behind the salon. Her soup was still warm. For a few minutes, she felt she ought to be doing something else.

Then she tasted it properly: carrots, pepper, a little too much salt.

The next morning, Davi arrived at nine. Mara took his helmet and pointed to the chair.

"Straight in?" he asked.

"Straight in."

He smiled."I like knowing when I'll be finished."

"So do I," Mara said.

At lunchtime, she washed her bowl before putting it in her bag. She would need it again tomorrow.