Chapter 15

Corbin

The machine's hum usually settles me. That's half the reason I still love late afternoons at the shop, when the loudest thing in the room is the buzz of a needle, Griff's bad taste in music, and somebody talking themselves through pain like they're negotiating with God in real time. Tattooing makes sense to me. Lines matter. Pressure matters. You pay attention, or you ruin something permane