I was leaving a piece of me, of my art, on someone else. It was her first tattoo, but she handled it like a champ, and she was encouraging me the entire time rather than me having to do much comforting her. In the end, she cried not from pain, but from how much she loved the little piece on her forearm, and I saw the way Nero crooked a smile at me when the girl wrapped me in another fierce hug. I’d done it.
