text: &#x200B; She wore a bright yellow dress with brown boots that came up to her knees. Her hair cut short and it looked to be a Hershey chocolate brown. He didn’t look like he belonged with her. He was wearing a dirty white shirt and black jeans that were a little too tight. His hair fell over the tops of his ears as if he skipped his last two barber appointments. I watched his hand slip into her hair and tucking it behind her ear. At first, she was surprised he came on so strong with the kiss. After a while she leaned in with her whole body. They were intertwined like the vines of jungle plants who grew too close to each other. Everything was innocent until I watched his hand move up her knee onto her thigh and under her dress. That’s when I dipped my nose back into my novel. I had always enjoyed reading here. I walked to the middle of the park typically where tourists didn’t gather and other natives didn’t know about. It was this giant rock sitting behind some tall grass right next to the water. I always packed a towel and laid it down next to the rock and read my novel. I couldn’t do this much due to the fact I had been in school all year, but now that it was summer I could finally find a little peace and quiet time. The couple had found the bench across from the walkway that led to my secret spot. They couldn’t see me, but I sure as hell could see them. I was a little jealous in a way. He didn’t feel her as if he was trying to take advantage of her. He touched her gently because he definitely loved her. You can just tell sometimes by the way people treat each other. I never knew what that touch had felt like but I had definitely seen it on others. They were only in the third chapter of their story. You know, the whole game of him trying to get her attention. Then he tries to grow some balls and ask for her number. After texting for a few days, he actually needs to pick up the nerve and ask her on a date. Finally comes the first kiss and possibly even sex. Even all of that, he might find himself introducing her to his parents. And oh God, possibly even marriage. Feelings just didn’t come that natural to me. I packed up my things into my dirty worn out backpack. Walking towards the subway, I stopped and stared at my reflection. My dirty blonde hair fell just past my shoulders. The green blouse I was wearing cut low enough to be sexy, but not too revealing. My mom jeans definitely set off the signal that I really wasn’t trying to impress anyone that day, and my Chuck Taylors contributed to that idea quite well too. I moved in closer towards the mirror, looking at my freckled covered face. It was a blessing and a curse. The freckles made me look cute, but too cute to look my age of 20 years old. I was mistaken for 13 quite frequently. My eyes were a light brown that had been seasoned with green flakes, being my most noticeable feature. I made my way down in the tunnels of the big city where I swiped my card and proceeded to the train. After sitting down, I pulled out my novel again. There was a woman and her baby sitting on the other side of my cart. The woman was playing on her cell phone while lightly waving a baby toy in front of her infant to distract them. I got only a couple pages deep in my book when I felt it. Gripping my ankle, I screamed loudly. It felt as if a thousand bees had stung me. When I pulled my hand away for a second, I saw my hand covered in blood. Was I dying? I moved my hand back quickly only because the air had stung my open wound. I dropped my book and wiped my tears away with my now open hand. Looking over, I saw the woman had been staring at me blankly while her child was screaming louder than I had. I moaned in pain and hunched over getting a better look at my ankle. A dark imprint had made its home right above the bone. I wiped away a little more blood to see the shape of a footprint appear. “What on earth?” I whispered to myself. The subway had stopped and I had fallen over in my seat. I grabbed the closest railing and with my other hand, grabbed my book from sliding on the floor across the subway. I stood up quickly shoving it back into my bag and ran off the train. After getting off, I looked back inside to see the woman staring at me as if I had shot someone. The train started moving and I watched her pull out her cell phone and begin speaking into it. I wish I could have heard what she had said, because I surely knew it would be about me. Walking home, I slightly limped because the muscles tensing up on my new scar made it sore. I made it back to my apartment where I found the door unlocked, meaning that Sherrie was home. Immediately, I grabbed the first aid kit we had stored in our extra tall kitchen cabinet. I then threw myself on the couch and began wrapping it with an ace bandage. “What’s up?” Sherrie yelled from her bedroom. “I’m not sure,” I responded. Sherrie came out in a long pink pastel shirt and pajama shorts. She was brushing out her long brown hair that reached down to her waste. A green moldy looking face mask covered her face. “Holy shit,” she said. Sherrie didn’t have much of a filter. “You should’ve seen the girl in the subways reaction.” “You got a tattoo on a subway?” “No.” “Well where did you get it Missy?” She sat down next to me unwrapping it. The air stung it a little because it was so deep in my skin. “I don’t know.” “You got drunk didn’t you?” she laughed. “No Sherrie, I didn’t get drunk on a Sunday and get a tattoo.” “Well, where did it come from?” That same question had been pondering through my head since the moment I first saw it. The little black footprint was pointed up my ankle towards my thigh. It had four little toes on it instead of five. I lightly touched it, knowing we were going to be together forever. “I’m not quite sure,” I whispered. The next day after work, I met up with Sherrie and her boyfriend Danny to grab a cup of coffee. The Starbucks in town are absolutely insane with tourists, so we always try to find new quiet and unheard-of coffee shops that not many people go to. We sat down at Culture Espresso which is slightly busy, but not too busy to the point where we couldn’t hear each other. The tables were small so we were really close to one another (including the strange man with stretched ear lobes sitting behind me). I had ordered a simple black coffee while they both ordered fancy drinks with extremely long names. Danny was tall and dressed well. He always styled his long dark hair back, making him look edgy and mysterious. Sherrie was just as beautiful as he was, which made them a cute couple. Sometimes they were almost a little too aware of that. Danny and Sherrie were quite an affectionate couple with random outbursts of PDA. They had to always be in constant contact with each other in any situation. Danny kept his hand either extremely far up Sherrie’s thigh, or directly on her hip whenever he got the chance. I sipped my coffee while he leaned in and smacked a big wet kiss on her lips. Sherrie grew a bashful grin and whined “babe” so loud that everyone in the restaurant was aware she had a boyfriend. Of course she had to return the favor and it resulted in a mini make out session. I didn’t mind and neither did anyone else around us. Although, this little fire inside me began to grow. What was this? I averted my eyes. “So, Missy, how is life? We don’t talk anymore. You are always gone out of the apartment! Well I mean I am too, but I miss you. How is work? Are you dating anyone yet? How is your tattoo healing?” Sherrie blurted out. Sherrie was from Michigan so she has always talked extremely fast. She needed to get everything out that was on her mind. “You got a tattoo? Where did you go? Who was the artist?” Danny added, matching Sherrie’s speed. “I didn’t go anywhere. I don’t even know if I’d call it a tattoo,” I managed to squeeze in the conversation. “It’s so cute though!” Sherrie added. “Show Danny!” I shifted my ankle from under the table and lifted up the cuff of my jeans high enough to where Danny could see it. The large ear-lobes man behind me peaked over and scoffed. “It’s very tiny,” Danny said. “Why a footprint?” “I guess it wasn’t really my choice.” They both stared at me blankly, which caused me to sip the rest of my coffee to avoid the awkwardness. “So how’s work?” Sherrie asked again. “It’s good,” I said. I explained what it was like to work at a movie theater. How annoying it was to clean the popper that made all the delicious popcorn people desired when they walked in. I told them about how I busted someone who tried to sneak in a fifth of vodka the other day and they laughed. We conversed for about an hour when Sherrie and Danny excused themselves to go out on a double date. When standing up, I immediately fell back down. The guy with the ear lobes jumped as a reaction to my fall. I was grabbing my ankle again. Except, it wasn’t just my ankle this time. The pain had moved farther up my calf in multiple locations. Sherrie and Danny stared as I pulled up the leg of my pants as far as I could to see what had happened. More marks. This time it was several footprints moving up my leg, as if a tiny person had worn ink and climbed up my leg. I looked up at Sherrie who was completely shocked. “You weren’t lying,” she said. “I told you!” I shouted. We made our way to urgent care, where they were just as baffled as we were. I sat up on the table in the doctor’s room and Sherrie sat in a chair in the corner. Danny waited out in the lobby. The doctor that was treating me was a tall woman with dark red hair and pale skin. She had very pouty lips and a deep voice. “So you have random markings that showed up on your leg?” She said reading her clipboard without even glancing up. “Are you allergic to anything?” “Not that I know of,” I said. “Alright well let’s have a look.” I pulled up my pant leg again and showed her the footprints. She moved in her face extremely close and stared at my leg. Then she tapped her lip with her pen. “Missy is it?” “Yes Ma’am.” “This is a place for people with problems. You and your friends need to stop coming in here with these tattoo pranks. You are wasting our time and money,” she snapped. Sherrie and I looked at each other. “Excuse me?” I said. “If you’re not out of here in the next 5 minutes I’m afraid I’ll have to call the police.” My jaw dropped. Sherrie and I grabbed our bags and ran out of the room. She grabbed Danny by the arm and yanked him out of the waiting room. Once outside, we made our way to the closest subway station and stopped to discuss what had happened. “What the hell,” I finally said after moments of silence. “She thought we were pulling a PRANK,” Sherrie exclaimed. “What?” Danny asked. “She kicked us out and said ‘stop coming in here with your tattoo pranks’ and threatened to call the police on us!” I said. “Had you been in there yesterday?” Sherrie asked. “No. Why?” “She almost sounded like you had been in there before. She said ‘you and your friends’ as if someone had come in and done the same thing.” We were standing in front of the gates that lead to the trains, so people had been pushing passed us. We couldn’t move though. We were all so shocked at what had just happened. “Wait,” Danny said. “Does that mean..” “Someone else has been having the same problems,” Sherrie announced. A few days passed, and my art on my leg kept growing. I was beginning to get used to it. The shocking feeling of being stabbed almost became a normal feeling. Of course I knew when it happened, but it stopped startling me as bad. Once I was ordering a dollar slice of pizza for lunch, and it happened. I jumped a bit, but returned to paying the nice man for my food. He looked at me as if I had done a backflip. Another time, I was changing in a dressing room when it happened again. I had slammed my back into the wall of the dressing room because it slightly surprised me, but then I continued with my shopping. When I came out, everyone stared at me. All I could do is awkwardly smile and move on. I became restless at night, wondering what that doctor meant. Who else could be having these problems? The tattoo had grown up my calf to my thigh and onto my stomach. Footprints traveled up my calf and were soon covered by beautiful colorful feathers. They looked to be water colored in blues and pinks. The feathers led into an abstract mesh of art on my stomach, still unfinished. I was preparing any day now for the tattoo to complete itself. While it was growing, I found myself traveling in different parts of the city that I hadn’t really visited before. I was searching for answers. I traveled to the university and searched their campus for someone who had any knowledge on my situation, but everyone stared at me oddly when I told them what was happening. I found myself exploring tattoo parlors and asked them as many questions as I could. The employees were always amazed by the work on my body and asked things such as who designed it, where I got it done, how much had I paid for it. This showed me that they weren’t actually listening to my questions. I had been searching and searching but no luck. All sorts of questions ran through my head. What’s going to happen to me? Will I be okay? What’s the point? Who else knows what’s going on? I was sitting on a swing set in the middle of the park, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I was beginning to feel defeated. I could feel myself sinking into the seat, the flame of hope inside me was dying out. Stuck, was the best way to describe it. Sitting there for hours it seemed like, I finally decided I should make my way home accepting my defeat. When I looked up, I was surprised. A giant hawk sat in a tree dead ahead staring at me. We made clear eye contact. Its eyes shimmered with gold specks and it was blinding. It opened its mouth and turned its head so I could see its other eye. The hawk was beckoning me towards it. Not feeling any insanity, I stood up and moved closer. I was about a foot away from the ginormous bird when I reached my hand out to touch it. It spread its wings and stared at me for half a second before it took off. “Wait!” I cried. I picked up my bag from the spot I had been sitting and chased the bird from the ground. It was flying so fast I had to sprint. Booking it down the pathways, I weaved between groups of people who were touring the park. My eyes were glued on to the bird. It picked up its speed and I couldn’t chase it any longer. Finally, the screaming of the big city halted me to a stop. I looked around to see where it had gone, but I couldn’t seem to find it. I sat down on the nearest bench to catch my breath. Through my loud panting after running my marathon, I heard a faint noise. I wasn’t really focused on it until finally my breathing brought itself to a normal volume. What was the noise? I got up and walked the next block over where I saw a group of people huddled around something. There was music playing. I made my way up the slight hill that led to the crowd and mixed in with the tourists. There was a man sitting on a bench playing guitar. This was a normal spot for this to happen in the park. The man had a medium length hair of wavy brown hair. He was wearing a bandana around his forehead and he closed his eyes while he sang with his guitar. It was a very peaceful sound. His lips were full and they moved beautifully with his voice. His hands didn’t miss a single chord. He could have only been a year or two older than me. What had really surprised me though, was the tattoo that had sat right above his ankle. Foot steps leading up his leg. “Hi,” I said sitting next to him once he finished his song. I was wearing long pants today so he couldn’t see my art. “Hello,” he smiled at me. “You sing very well,” I said awkwardly. He chuckled, “Thanks. I was a big fan.” He was gesturing towards the big circle that was designed on the ground in front of us. It was a memorial for a famous singer who had been killed years ago, just across the street. “I have to show you something,” I mumbled. He stared at me confused. I lifted up my pant leg slightly to show him my footprints. “I finally found you,” he said. We were staring into each other’s eyes now. His were a seaweed green that mesmerized you the longer you looked into them. I felt connected instantly. That’s when the tattoo completed itself. It didn’t hurt this time, and I knew exactly what the pattern finished into. A beautiful bird of many colors now was painted on both of our ribs. Feathers and colors bursted out from its wings, pulling in its viewer to every little detail. It was too beautiful for any human to design.