#microstories

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 do piercings here as well?”

I nodded, already bored and wanting to get back to my Swtich.

“And scarification?”

Well shit, now you have my attention lady.

I am shocked she even knows the word.

I nod.

She moves to the mirror and looks at herself.

Impossible to guess her age but she looks good, she looks well off, elegant, not house-wifey, not my Mum.

Drawing a finger down her left cheek, “I want you to give me an interesting scar. Here.”