Magic Touch

Ben eyed the artsy, hipster clock hanging on the wall behind the reception desk. It was 4:22 p.m., close to his last appointment for the day. He’d been squeezing a stress ball for the better part of an hour in an attempt to keep his fingers from cramping. He’d been hard at work for hours, and no matter the comfort of the insoles of his shoes, he couldn’t ignore his aching feet either.

He absolutely despised growing older, not that he was old by any stretch, but when the majority of your coworkers were doe-eyed and fresh out of cosmetology school, you start to feel your age.

“What’re you doing this weekend?” Kate, his best friend and owner of the high-end spa, asked.

Ben shrugged. “Sox game. Got decent tickets. Other than that, just running errands.” It’d be another weekend full of the mundane shit that no one liked about adulthood, like paying bills and grocery shopping.

“That sounds…absolutely boring,” Kate sighed. She sat in one of the office chairs behind reception, swinging restlessly from side to side.

“I like boring,” Ben replied. “Boring is safe.”

After two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, he’d take ‘boring’ any day of the week. Even if it did involve New Age nature music and handsy rich old ladies.

“George and I were thinking of taking Jimmy around the Harbor. You should come.”

Ben snorted. Boston Harbor and its surrounding environs were the last place he wanted to be on a weekend off. “No,...