I have to write about my last client.
Beautiful Persian Zoroastrian man, immaculately dressed, who brought me olives, grapes, a pear, and a pomegranate. He was a physicist by profession.
He wanted to smell my nylons while I sang to him. I can’t sing with a good Goddamn, but I laid on top of him while he was curled up underneath the blanket like a shrimp.
I hummed Edelweiss. I don’t know how to sing. I can read music, but my sense of tune is completely off. I have a tin ear.
He started to cry. He wasn’t sobbing…just, water came out of his eyes. He was very composed.
He looked up at me and said that my hair is reddish-gold, the same color as the most expensive gold in his homeland.
Then he rolled over onto his stomach and asked me to sing some more.
I tell you this because it ripped out my heart, and it really happened. Just now.