Excerpt: Marry Me, I Think?

If Hue wanted the world to feel sorry for her today, she was doing a good job of it. Hue was the creator, owner and receptionist of Jack’s current place of work, Phab Lox Hair Studio. She was a stalky east asian woman who never revealed her exact heritage, but based on the salon’s title, most people assumed she was Chinese... Raised in Norway. She never talked much, but her choices of words often left lasting impressions. To Jack, she was a total bitch. That said, she was the only woman in town willing to give a struggling cook a temporary full-time job, so he couldn’t complain.
Hue looked back as Jack quietly stepped into the salon‘s rear entrance.
“Why you style your hair like this?” she interjected. Noticing that Jack paused and was momentarily listening, she quickly added, “It look ugly.”
“Good morning, Hue...” Jack replied, without emotion. Six months ago, he would have become flushed with anger, followed by self-consciousness; “Does my hair really look bad today?” he would think. But he was used to it now. He knew his hair looked fine, and that Hue would later blurt out her version of an apology, working in the fact that she had bills to pay and was tired of not being respected. Or something like that.
Today, for the first time, Jack actually found himself entertained by the little old lady, noticing her bright pink socks obviously coordinated with her nail polish and patent leather handbag. He thought of... 1998, when his mother decided she was going to try her hand at decorating a guest bedroom. She quickly decided that - since the walls were blue - well, what better color for the furniture than more blue? It looked like today was going to be funny. Jack breathed a sigh of relief.