I walked out of the bathroom and tried to ignore Nico’s lascivious gaze. The man made me squeamish.
But then a flash of color caught my eye. A tattoo on his forearm.
“Oh, you have a tattoo,” I said. Tattoos fascinated me. I hadn’t gotten one myself yet because I hadn’t found the perfect image.
“Oh, yes, isn’t it beautiful?” my mother said.
I walked closer to get a better look. It was indeed beautiful—a bird enveloped in colors of fuchsia, purple, orange, and teal. Its wings were flames, and it rose from ashes.
It was a phoenix.