Deep, dark, heavy rain clouds were moving in from the Gulf. The sky appeared to hold weight. With his backpack over his left shoulder, the soldier pulled open the heavy door of the bookstore, walked to the coffee shop, purchased a black coffee from the barista, and sat at a circular rust-colored Formica-laminated table by the window. He was looking forward to the rain moving in, as the region had been in a drought for nearly a year.

     He slid the ladderback chair back on the white tile, sat, sipped his coffee, unzipped his backpack, and removed three books, a notebook, pen, and a laptop. He was about to resume his research from earlier in the morning when a woman appeared by the magazines. She was covered in tattoos. On her right thigh, a virago appeared with her tongue split into a Y like a serpent’s tongue. A horned creature in red appeared to the left of that one. Women in varying stages of undress enveloped the rest of her. Several flower petals covered her forearms and hands. HOLD FASTwas inked on her upper right arm. Hold fast to what? the soldier mused. 

    

Looking through the bookstore window, the browning crepe myrtle leaves were moving in the winds as the rain clouds moved closer and the clouds slid darkly above. The soldier sipped at his black coffee. He tried to concentrate on his research. A man appeared next to the woman suddenly. He was showing her pictures from the magazine Tattoo. The man had a long red beard; it was braided at the bottom like a girl in pigtails. A sky-blue rubber band was tied about a quarter of an inch above the bottom of his rust-colored braided beard. His arms were thick, reminding one of the cartoon character Popeye. But this man’s arms were hairy and inked.

     He was still showing the woman tattoos from the magazine when it suddenly fell to the floor. He bent to pick it up and his t-shirt rose in the back, revealing more tattoos. On the small of his back and around his waist, bold letters appeared: NO MAN’S SLAVE. He picked it up, smiled at the woman next to him, and they both continued to admire the images in the magazine.

     The dark clouds continued to threaten outside but no rain was yet falling. Similar colors greeted the soldier’s eyes through the store window. The crepe myrtles had tiny pink colors on top of green and brown leaves. The clouds ran in wide swaths of blues: azure, cobalt, royal, lapis. It seemed to him that colors could be used well or not. Outside the colors held fast his eyes as if imbued with meaning.