Body Art

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Jeff Reardon had only ever seen beauty like it once before in his life. The first time she’d been flesh and blood. A face on the street. A whiff of perfume on a passing breeze. None of the others could match what she’d had…

Never!

Yes, she’d been perfection for the briefest of times and Jeff had never thought he would see her again. But now here she was, staring back at him from the brick fascia of the warehouse.

“You all right, boss?” Mark asked.

“Yeah, fine.” Jeff had to rip his gaze away from the spray-painted face of the goddess that towered from the floor to roof of the structure.

“Looks like you’ve seen a fucking ghost,” Mark joked.

“Nah… don’t talk stupid,” Jeff replied, already walking away.

“You want I give the guys the go ahead?” Mark yelled after him.

“Tell ’em to be here early in the morning,” Jeff shouted without looking back. “I want this place levelled before the evening.”

Jeff continued walking, wanting to put distance between himself, Mark and the graffiti adorned wall. His breathing was coming hard and fast by the time he reached his car, sweat soaking his shirt so that it clung to his torso uncomfortably.

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