The interior is small, with a counter on the right that divides the waiting area from the work area. Inside the work area, there are two massage beds and a dentist’s chair. A guy lays on his stomach on one of the beds. On his back, he has a giant tribal design that starts at his left shoulder and runs diagonally down to his right side.
The tattoo reminds me of a scar and I wonder if the guy would like to have one on his face. A girl sits in the chair while Stuart tattoos the side of her foot. From her misty eyes and clamped jaw, I imagine she is in a lot of pain.
While I look around, Sean sits on his stool, puts on a pair of gloves, and dips the needles of his tattoo machine in ink.
“Does it make you want to get one?” he asks me.
I turn and look at him with wide eyes. “One what?” I ask, incredulous, sliding my hands deeper into my pockets. If I go any deeper, I’ll reach my ankles.