The Devil We Know
The young woman stood at the cash register ringing me up. Her short-sleeved shirt revealed multiple tattoos all up and down her arm, hands. None of them looked like they had been done professionally. I asked her about a couple of innocuous designs and she seemed to draw in on herself as she told me, voice halting and a bit unsure, the miniature tale of each design. She showed me all of them but the largest, most pronounced one on her forearm. I didn’t want to pry. But then I

