The barber cut my hair without asking me to explain

Dear Delyara, I was seventeen and sleeping in a shelter. I had a job interview but had not had a haircut in nearly a year. The shelter gave me a voucher to a neighborhood barbershop. I expected questions. Where are your parents? Why are you in a shelter? What did you do? Are you in trouble? The barber asked only, “How do you want to look when you walk in?” I said, “Like someone they could trust.” He cut my hair, trimmed my beard, and gave me a clean shirt from a closet in the back. When I tried to pay with the voucher, he tore it in half. He said, “Come back after you get the job.” I did get it. That was twelve years ago. Today, I own a small auto-repair shop. I returned to the barbershop with my first employee, a young man leaving foster care. The same barber was still there. He smiled and asked the boy the same question: “How do you want to look when you walk in?”