To: The Man Whose Name I Know Not

Dear Sir,

I know you don’t remember me, you probably didn’t think me to be any different than anyone else. But you were the man who changed my life, in a small way. You are the man who pierced my ears on cold Thursday night, mere hours before the start of February. I never looked you in the eyes, never raised my gaze to reach your face. The most I remember about how you look is your tattooed arm and the back of your head as I darted back to leave a measly $3 tip.

I’d never seen you before, and probably never will again. Most likely that is the best thing. Because as you brushed my hair away from my ear, something in my heart melted and I fell in love with the gentleness of your touch. Not for any physical reasons, but because of the spirit that is usually behind that gesture. You didn’t chat, but you made sure I saw you open the packages, sanitize your hands and work area, safely dispose of the needles. You told me when to breathe in and prepare for the poking, after making sure I liked the placement of the earrings. But outside of these professional routines, you never said a thing.

You never asked my name, why I was getting pierced, why I waited two hours for a procedure that took all of ten minutes. But you didn’t need to. I was nothing new to you, simply another client, another person wanting to do something different. Through writing this I realize, I didn’t only fall for your touch, but far more so I fell for your professional manner. The way you knew I was just another person tossing away money for the sake of self-expression.

So sir, I must cease to write. But I thank you for your service and for your professionalism.

May the stars watch over you,

A client who never asked your name