Unseeing, Unforgotten

In my third year as a blind massage therapist, Henry Young took his employees on a company retreat.

By sheer coincidence, he ended up booking me.

When he saw me, he remained perfectly composed, so much so that even his breathing did not falter.

I served him the same way I treated every other client.

Then his phone rang.

My hands paused for a moment as my own voice, young and girlish, came through his phone speaker.

His employees immediately started teasing him.

Henry simply explained in a gentle voice, “My wife recorded that when she was young and didn’t know any better.”