Undead

2; followed

The low buzz that the tattoo gun let off was melodic. Like the hum of a humming bird. Often times it put me in a daze as I worked, but not enough to mess up my clients. Just to the point where I was only focused on tattooing and tattooing alone. My thoughts were put on hold for the time being and it allowed my creativity to break free from its barriers to satisfy both myself and my customer.

"You need a water or somethin?" I asked the young girl, removing the needle from the back of her palm. The skin on her hand and her cheeks were bright red, but she didn't look like she was in pain. I only stopped because my hand was starting to cramp up - I'd been at it for over an hour now. "You good?"

To my surprise she smiled brightly at me and nodded her head, "Keep going, this feels so good."

She had a point; after the initial sting of the needle, tattoos weren't that bad to sit through.

I grinned, chuckled, "Aight, I'm almost done." I flexed my hands a few times and blew out a breath. My neck began to ache from holding it in the same position for so long. "I think you're gonna like it."

She smiled proudly and turned her eyes up towards the ceiling so I could get back to work; I didn't mind customers watching me work, I never really got nervous. Her design was simple and I was able to freehand it: a withered rose with bloody thorns, and under it was a date. 6-3-11.

I always like to hear the story of how they came up with the ideas, just so I can get the jist of the theme of it. As she explained it, her name was Marcie, her mother always loved red roses but died of breast cancer on that particular day. This was a tribute to her.

At first I didn't understand what the rose had to do with the date, but as I outlined it on her skin it clicked in my mind. It was sweet and meaningful, which was my favorite type of tattoo. I'd much work on the larger, more detailed, drawn out tattoos rather than a fucking unicorn when some nigga gets drunk off his ass.

I wiped some excess ink away with a white towel and turned the gun off. "Aight, there you go mama." During this time she refused to look at the process - she wanted it to be a surprise, which I could admire. "Tell me what you think."

Her eyes went wide, and her free hand clasped over her mouth in awe. Her bright blue eyes swam in a sea of red and she squeezed them shut against the first tear. I chuckled at her as I sat back and watched her reaction.

She jumped up and threw her arms around my neck with almost enough force to knock me off my stool. I laughed even harder and squeezed her back while she sobbed tears of joy onto my shoulder. "Whoa lil mama, these are tears of joy, right?"

She nodded through her blubbering and let me go, half embarrassed and half still crying. "I freaking love it! It's beautiful!"

I smiled bashfully and nodded, "Good, I'm glad you like it. Let me wrap you up and then you can go, aight?" She didn't hear me, she was too busy gawking at her new ink. She was still crying as I wrapped it up and I handed her a small card with directions on it. "This tells you how to clean it so it doesn't get infected. Call the shop if you got any questions."

She nodded quickly and reached into her purse for a wad of cash. She stuffed it in my hands and beamed. As I counted it, my jaw fell and I looked up at her. She didn't even flinch. "Keep the change."

"Whoa lil mama, I told you it was only a hundred and fifty." I attempted to hand most of it back. "You realize this is a two hundred dollar tip, right?"

She shook her head, "Keep it. You deserve it, and I know my mom would be proud." My eyes lingered on the money in my hand, my heart warming a little. "I can't thank you enough, Breezy."