“Heard that you make tattoos?” She asked.
Her beautiful brown eyes scanned the walls of my works on people’s skin. Her eyes were the only thing that were unveiled, the expectations of the society draping her whole body leaving only her eyes as if to see the world but not be a part of it.
“I want a tattoo.”
She laid her eyes on the needles on the table beside me, ready to pierce any skin.
“Where do you want it?” I asked her.
Surprisingly, she took off her burqa exposing her olive skin. I stared at her perfect body, her small waist and the perfect curves. She covered her chest with her arms as soon as she saw me staring and turned her back at me.
“Can you conceal those scars?” Her voice quivered. On her beautiful body, I had fail to notice the scars engraved deep within the skin, the scars of thousand lashes imprinted on her beautiful tortured body.
Those scars looked beautiful than most of my works but painful at the same time. A chill ran down my spine as I thought of pain she had to go through.
Then with my shaking hand, I began my work on her, tracing her scar as she shuddered under my touch. Those dark fluid engraved her skin under my command, I started to print my feeling for her deep under her skin. My work of art mingled with her scars till it became one.
“Thank you.” She mumbled, I couldn’t help but smile and appreciate my artwork.