Almonds and Dead Birds
"Ow," I inhaled.
Tucker winced too, but smiled and kept going. "Not many people come in at 5 AM to get a tattoo all by themselves."
"Not many tattoo artists set appointments for 5 am, either." I snapped, broken winged, but immediately regretted my retort. Tucker was mild and wholesome, almonds in yogurt in manner and appearance: brown and healthy and sweet and nutty and dear to those who wanted to do something good for themselves every once in a while. He looked into my eyes for a moment, and past my quip.
My heart swelled as the wings of a swan were slowly sewn into my skin. "Thanks for this, Tucker."
"It's nothing, Yujin...and I'm real sorry about what happened."
I swallowed, and kept watching white ink bands rush wildly on my thigh, like a painted gust of wind. "Don't worry 'bout it."
"The funeral's at 3:00, right?"
"Yep." I slung my pointe shoes over my shoulder.
"Ok. See you there."
With a practiced movement, I pulled my shining Blackhawk pistol from my bag. "If I get away, you will."
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
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Someone is sad, but vengeful? wait swan..as in black swan.