TATTOO PARLOR | daniel howell

t h r e e

I walked into the tattoo parlor, the smell of ink filling my nostrils. I place the apron over my black tank top and leggings, completing my uniform.

The door jingles and a frequent costumer walks in.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Howell," I say to him as he sits in the chair and leans back.
"Good morning, y/n," he replies. "I'll have a red tally today," He squirms in his seat.
"This is your 9th red tally," I begin, "what's the meaning behind these colors?" I ask him. He looks down.
"I'm uh, I don't know actually. I just like the colors, I guess." He responds. I shrugged it off.

I wrapped his arm with plastic.

"I'm guessing you already know the deal with how long you should keep this on for?" I asked him. He nodded.

An hour after he came in, the tally was finished. He paid at the counter and was on his way. I began to wonder if he really did just like the colors.

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I'm really sorry that this is so short, I've been in need of motivation for a long time. I'm really gonna try to keep up an actual schedule, but I honestly don't know. If you guys want me to continue this story, I will. If you don't, I'll discontinue. Love you all!

-ella