Skin

Nels arrived at the shop early, moving quickly to the ledge where he'd left his tools to soak up the light of the full moon. There were only two appointments booked at the moment, but it would be a full day; Nels could feel them ... coming to a decision that there was no time like the present. Gloves and cloths, cups and inks; he washed his face and hands in a bit of moon water and then moved to the back room to make coffee. He'd take the cushion and do a little breathwork before the caffeine kicked in and the crush began. There'd be at least one little heart (or maybe a tiny ankle dolphin); there was always one of those, and Nels secretly loved the tiny pieces which, for an ink master, was the equivalent of watching cartoons. The world was not so weary and worn that someone wouldn't want a four-leaf clover or a daisy, and that was as it should be. For the rest, there was coffee and a deep knowing that the truth, commemorated in skin, could be accepted and made beautiful. "Hey," Nels said, greeting the first person to walk through the door.