BEING KAREN

She was so beautiful that no one could gaze at her. All those who served did so with eyes downcast or wearing a hood. They knew that beauty was the last thing you saw before your eyes went dark. Maybe it was a spell. It was said that her great great grandmother was born of a demon after all. Powerful magic ran in their family, and so it seemed that powerful beauty did too. The courtiers were used to it. The servants got used to it. The portrait painters? They worked with mirr

It was a quiet day, Tuesday morning does not scream tattoo. When she walked in I thought she was looking for her kid, not looking for ink. She wasn’t looking for ink either. She wandered over to the display and my heart sank a little, she was too old for a tramp stamp, too elegant for anything wild, and then I wondered if she already had some, just not where they could be seen. That cheered me up. She made eye contact and that was her way of smiling and saying hello. “Do you