The tattoo did not move, as such, but its position changed. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, up along his arm over a span of years. It lost its crisp lines and subtle shades while passing his shoulder; almost faded, it climbed his neck, reached his ear.
Whispered: "You are loved."
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Micro SF/F stories by O Westin (microsff@mastodon.social)'s status on Tuesday, 27-Nov-2018 18:54:49 UTC
Micro SF/F stories by O Westin