“You have one tattoo. Hipbone. Fight like a girl. Lobster font. You like it when I trace the letters with my fingertips, one at a time, while I eat you out. You like when I kiss it when I wake you up in the morning and lick you head to toe. You inked it the day you turned eighteen and realized your relationship with your parents was officially over. It was a reminder you don’t need them. That you have yourself.”
