After Somin finally gets into a prestigious Art university, everything in her life turns upside down. What was once a secure plan to get closer to her boyfriend is now a mess. Her future is unknown, though already stained with heartache.
Will she p...
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Lee Somin
Somin put the name of the coffee shop into her cellphone.
I need to navigate myself. How nice of him to choose a coffee shop, when he so heavily prefers tea. Walking in the direction of the GPS a big sign "A.R.T. ink" caught the adventurous girl's attention.
I always wanted to see how it looked inside one of those. Somin, be brave. There's no harm in looking.
She opened the door bravely.
The wall in the narrow hall was decorated with framed tattoo paintings.
These are astonishingly beautiful and highly artistic.This artist had huge skill.
She had to investigate up close the soft aquarelles, light pastels, the emotional drawings done with very gentle strokes. Every design was captured in artistic photography, a client's skin up close next to the original picture design made in watercolors.
I would love to have this on my body.
At the end of the hall, stairs led her down to the basement level. I'm going to get killed now.
I'm so dumb, why am I such a wuss? Stairs guided her to the door on which she nervously knocked.
Calm the fuck down Somin. She reprimanded herself.
Nothing.
Maybe they aren't here or they're busy.
"Knock"
"Knock"
She tried it again and the door moved and opened.
There was a scary-looking man, a big guy, almost 1,8m tall and bald. Under his lip gaped a hole with a wide tunnel, ears hanging low, heavy with earrings. Nonetheless, his eyes were summer sky blue and inviting and his tone was friendly.
"How can I help you, miss?"
"Ehm, I have never been to a tattoo parlor before. I was just wondering if I can have a look around?"
Fuck, I sounded foolish. She pestered herself.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she let out hastily.
How come every time, you level up the intensity of self-embarrassment, way to go Somin.
"Here you go, come in and have a look around. You can go through that tattoo portfolio on the table or look at artworks on the wall." He pointed to a low dark brown coffee table near the comfortable black couch.
"If you need something, don't hesitate to ask me. We can set an appointment or make a new design for you." He was unexpectedly nice.
What did I think? That there will be criminals?Mafia waiting to snatch me around every corner?
She went up to the table and started to view the portfolio. Her hands sweat with an intense feeling of self-cringe.
A paranoid, scared, lame little girl. That's what I still am.
