Howard Coleman's hand, buttoning up, suddenly froze upon hearing the beautician's question.
There wasn't much change in the expression on his face.
That knife wound... it was the one he had taken for her.
Seeing Howard rooted to the spot, the beautician remained silent.
After a long while, Howard came back to his senses, silently finished buttoning up, and stood up. He donned his suit jacket, stepped out of the private room, and headed to the reception to hand over his card. He waited for the receptionist to complete the transaction and, facing the manager's enthusiastic farewell, still bore a silent demeanor.
When he stepped out of the SPA Shop, it was already past nine in the evening. A night breeze was blowing, carrying with it a trace of the day's lingering heat.
