• The boy in the tanktop fell in love with the girl walking onto the train. Don't get excited, he fell in love at least once a day; it was why he stayed in cities.

    She walked with this easy, casual stride because she knew how cool she was and quite superior to everyone around her. There were too many earnings in her lobes and one or two that weren't in her ears at all, and he never did understand that. But she favored him with a smile, because those of the upper crust ought to be kind to the Great Unwashed, after all.

    He took out his phone and pretended to be deeply immersed in a game of Tetris, twisting his neck to offer the best view of his tattoo. A dining needle, it was. Its body was inked with a brilliant green that seemed to reflect the light, and its black wings seemed to pull it in and devour it like a certain celestial body.

    And she couldn't take her eyes off it, especially after its wings moved. She blinked and kept watching it. Nothing happened. Openly staring by this point, she kept watching. Yes, tattoos could be made to appear to move by flexing muscles... but there weren't any in that particular spot to really move the skin in any- It did it again. Those wings flapped.

    There was a certain twinkle in his eye when he looked back at her. He knew she was interested in him. He introduced himself and had a certain swagger when he walked across the car to her at one of the stops. He told her his funny story (because as we know from Cosmo, every guy has their repertoire of six stories, and one of them is the funny one).

    If she was honest, she'd tell you she'd decided to have sex with him the moment those wings flapped. That was so cool, sexy, and mysterious, and he was her type anyway. But she'd give him a chance to blow it. Always give them time to look staggeringly stupid, lose their false faces, it was her rule. So they went out for drinks. Long story short, she took him home.

    In the morning, he was still there with her. He snored like a bear, not that she'd ever heard a bear snore. She watched him for a while, because she liked watching people sleep. Somewhere in the back of her head, she wondered if that was strange. She caressed his face, just because he was sweet to her, the night before. His ink was still as he was.

    The dining needle just above her waistline stared back at her from the bathroom mirror, which was not how she expected to start her day.