Floyd Watt
Kiara Brinkman
LA 110

First Tattoo It being nearly midnight, and I sat in my room, at my desktop computer. I had my photos folder open among other things. Scrolling threw a number of past birthdays, and family vacations. I eventually stopped at a photo where my whole family took a trip to the Aquarium. I can still remember this day as if it were yesterday. It was a Saturday afternoon when my family took a trip to the aquarium. My mother and my identical twin brother were so eager to spend some quality time together. By the time we arrived to the shark exhibit, we were instantly in awe. "Hey, Gabriel, what’s your favorite shark?"
“The Hammer head, of course."
“Oh, is that right, why?”
“Well, I heard, unlike other sharks, they have sensory organs in their head. This allows them to pick up on the slightest amount of movements, even if they can not see it.”
“Gabe, you are way too into the Discovery Channel."We had viewed every shark in the exhibit; Mom had taken us into a souvenir store. We stopped and looked at all of the little trinkets from key chains to t-shirts. In the kids section, we encountered a number of rubber sharks of all shapes and sizes. Gabe was on all fours; digging through the basket, searching for something with great intent. Minutes later Gabe had found a shark tooth necklace that appeared to be buried at the very bottom of the basket. I just picked the very first toy I saw in the pile. After mom had purchased the toys, she stowed them away in her large leather bag. Outside the store, mom glanced at a Great White's jaw. The last thing we did at the park was take a family photo with my brother and me grinning in the camera, in front of dagger like teeth. Five years after the trip to the aquarium, it is November 11th, 2009, and the anniversary of my brother's passing. Being the weekend, I slept in till about noon. When I got up, I walked in the kitchen and noticed a bunch of miscellaneous papers, beneath all the clutter was that photo mom took when we were 10. Gabe and I wore matching outfits, striped shirts with denim overalls. We had a blast that day, even digesting two corn dogs. As I opened the stainless steel fridge door, I scavenged for a morsel, but nothing looked appealing to me, so I took a stroll into town. I was able to see my own breath in this North Carolina air. This was surely going to give me Goosebumps, but I already took the first few steps away from the door. I immediately regretted leaving my Tar Heels sweat shirt in my room. Today's forecast on my phone displayed, partially cloudy and roughly 70 degrees. With every passing breeze, I could not help but shiver. Despite the cold, I kept walking hoping it would warm me up. I was not sure how I ended up on Park Street, the street that runs between Glen Park and the famous tattoo parlor House of Pain. No child could be seen or heard in the park, only discarded pieces of newspaper blew along the concrete sidewalk. A year and two weeks ago my brother, and I stood at this very spot, making plans to get matching tattoos, when we turn18. The goal was to have something that was permanent something that could bring us closer together as brothers. I Pulled out my iPod from my jeans and pressed play. The first song that blared through my ear buds was Katy Perry's “If we ever meet again.” I had meant to delete that track from my play list, but for some reason kept it. The song seemed like noise as my mind drifted into the past. As I closed my eyes I could see rain drops falling, and me buckled in a car. That night the roads were wet, and it rained heavily. The windshield wipers raced across the glass. It was difficult to see the tail lights in front of us. My brother and I were going to one of the most important basketball games this season. Gabe was behind the wheel doing the speed limit. At one of the stop signs, he pressed his hand on his chest as if searching for something, then exhaled a second