After Harry left, I decided I would get ready. I decided to go out and explore the streets of New York.
I grabbed my keys and locked the door. As I was walking to the car, a large gust of wind blew and I chilled. It was so fucking cold in New York.
I got in the car and drove off to check our New York.
As I drove, I noticed little coffee shops and tattoo parlors. So, so tiny. New York was very crowded.
Then, I looked at the tattoo parlor. Should I get one? When I was little, I knew I always wanted to get one, but I was always afraid of the pain.
I pulled to the side and jumped out of my car. I walked into the parlor's doors.
I walked in and was met with a large man full if tattoos, no skin showing.
"I'm here to get a tattoo." I said, which was dumb.
The man chuckled. "It seems you are. Alysa will be assisting you, and she seems to be with a customer right now, so lets just get the laying done before."
I payed and then sat to the side. I waited and waited for this "Alysa" person to get done, so while I was waiting, I thought if the tattoo I would get, and where I would get it.
Then, a voice spoke.
"Anne Woods!" A female voice screamed through the parlor.
I guessed it was my turn to go next because the woman, Alysa, had the curtain open.
I sat down on the seat and she looked at me.
"Well, where do you want it? What do you want it to say?"
I wanted it to look like what I wrote, so I asked her.
"Do you have a piece of paper?"
She grunted and handed me a piece of paper. I wrote down what I wanted.
"Can you tattoo that exactly write here?"
I pointed my right about my panty line on my right hip.
She nodded and started getting the needle ready.
I was nervous, but not that nervous. I was afraid of the pain. Then, that's when I felt it.
A sharp pain shot through my hip and I knew it was the needle, but I didn't move.
About half an hour later, the needle was removed and I knew the tattoo was completed.
"There you go." Alysa said.
I quickly thanked her and left the parlor. When I got in my car, I raised up my shirt to see what she had done.
There, inked on my right hip, in small writing, said:
I saw a shooting star and thought of you.
That was the lyric that spoke to me in Peter's song. It meant the most to me. And I had got the wise words of Peter Shepard inked onto my skin.