‘What are you going to go for?’ the tattoo artist asked.
Lola continued to flick through the well thumbed folder of options. Each page was protected by a plastic sleeve and she wondered whether the pictures were in danger of being stained by tears. Or blood! She didn’t want to think about it. It had taken almost everything she had to get herself to the parlour in the first place. Her friends had scoffed – ‘A tattoo? You? With your needle phobia?’
‘I mean I can do pretty much anything you want,’ the artist continued. ‘Hearts? Birds? A neat little lizard? A unicorn? Whatever you want really’.
Lola could feel sweat gathering under her armpits. She chewed at the inside of her lip and tasted blood, sweet, metallic. Her heart raced and her head was telling her to run and not look back. Decisively she banged the folder back down on the desk.
‘Changed your mind?’ the artist asked and started to turn away. He must have seen fear like hers a hundred times.
Lola swallowed hard.
‘No. I know exactly what I want thanks. It’s just that it’s not in your book. Please put ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ over my heart.’