Spring Thaw
This time last year I was in Seattle, had just stepped out of my house, pushed my bike out onto the sidewalk, triple checked that I’d shut the garage door behind me, and started my ride towards downtown Seattle for my tattoo appointment. The lead up to the appointment was a series of unfortunate events; the artist wanted cash, of which I had none, and the first several ATMs I visited were all closed. Finally I arrived, breathless, late, anxious, and we started talking about size and placement. She showed me the design, two Chinese-style dragons facing each other, printed out big enough to span the length of both shoulders. “Can we make it smaller?” I asked. The artist paused. Gave a sidelong glance at me. “Okay,” she said. It didn’t feel like it was okay. My heart started to race; the walls closed in. “I was thinking that I’d also like it in black ink,” I whispered. “I’d really prefer if we kept it in color,” she replied. Three hours later, I walked out of the studio, u...