On the car ride home, the rain begins to dissipate, and the sun starts to glare. Magna hums along to the melody of the song on the radio and drums her fingers against the steering wheel. She seems relieved to have me home again. As we drive past the tattoo parlor, a girl outside catches my eye. She is well-groomed, dressed nicely, and she seems to be very well put together. She opens the door of the tattoo parlor and hurries inside. Why would a woman like that want to ruin her natural beauty with an ugly tattoo? I wonder in disgust. I hope she doesn’t get tattooed in any place visible. Maybe I’m just being judgmental. I am far too old to be living in this neighborhood.
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