He glared at the tattoo: a snake slithering across his daughter’s shoulder in wide Cs. It blotted out the freckles forged during all those summers on their boat; brown constellations he’d helped hang.
Apparently, it was a reminder to be brave. Bullshit. His girl once chased off older kids trying to TP the house. She’d cussed him out when he enforced curfew. She’d left that husband of hers he never liked.
She shouldn’t need ink to remind her what she already was. But there it sat, fangs dripping, daring him to disapprove. Which, he realized, was exactly why he loved it.
I imagine her being annoyed that her father isn’t annoyed. Ha.