The barber shop on Havel Street belonged to the Novak family for more than thirty-five years. Stefan Novak worked six days a week cutting hair for factory workers, students, and pensioners from the surrounding district while his wife Danica handled appointments and cleaned the small upstairs apartment they shared with their grandson Luka after their daughter moved abroad for nursing work.
Most people in the neighborhood visited the shop at least once a month.
Some older customers had been coming since the late 1970s.
Luka’s Stool Near the Window
Seven things still remained inside the property years later: Stefan’s silver scissors resting beside folded towels; Danica’s handwritten appointment notebook tucked beneath the register; Luka’s comic books stacked near the waiting bench; a cracked radiator leaking rust onto the floor tiles; unpaid electricity reminders clipped beside the mirror; faded football stickers attached to the shop door; and a ceramic ashtray still sitting beside the cash drawer.
The neighborhood changed gradually after the steel plant outside the city reduced operations during the late 2000s. Families started moving away for work. Several nearby businesses closed within only a few years, including the bakery next door and the pharmacy across the tram line.
The barber shop survived mostly because Stefan charged less than newer salons downtown.
But business became slower every winter.
By 2014, Stefan had developed arthritis in both hands after years of repetitive work. Luka had already left for university in another city, and Danica increasingly struggled carrying groceries up the narrow staircase above the shop.
Neighbors later remembered the shop staying closed longer between haircuts.
Some mornings the shutters never opened at all.
After Danica suffered a fall during winter ice conditions, the couple finally decided to relocate closer to their daughter overseas.
The move happened quietly over several weeks.
Most furniture stayed behind because transporting it would cost too much.
Years later, when the building owner finally reopened the shop for renovation, much of it still looked ready for customers.
The waiting magazines were still neatly stacked.
The scissors remained beside the sink.
And taped inside the mirror frame was one final reminder written by Stefan:
“Leave the window open a little if the afternoon gets warm.”
