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I tucked the letter away in my drawer, under my lipstick. On difficult days, it reminds me of the importance of this work.
Then, something unexpected happened. Paying customers began tipping extra.
"For someone who needs a smile," they wrote.
A lawyer who came to collect gels told me, "We need a fund. People want to help."
She prepared the paperwork, and Project Mirror was born—our small way of giving people back their identities with kindness.
Donations poured in. Stylists volunteered on their days off. We added warm scarves in the winter and free haircuts for anyone going to a job interview.
Mirela would drop by sometimes, never to take, only to give.
Once with tins of cookies. Another time with crocheted scarves for our winter walk.
She would sit in my chair and tell me about her son's new apartment, her daughter-in-law's garden, and how her hair was growing back in soft waves.
Her light had returned, and she deliberately radiated it.
I used to think a salon was about vanity: polish, paint, a quick swipe of gloss before the next client.
Now I know it's about dignity.
It's the quiet greeting of a comb, the gentleness of a firm hand, the way a stranger can say, wordlessly, " You matter to me."
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