Brett nodded a she told him that the wall art was crap. He had figured that much from all the skulls, hearts, roses, and snakes. He plopped down on the stool and waited for her to sit down. He was grateful that he had come in on a slow day, because he didn't know if he could take another week of those damn dreams.
"Well miss, I'm not quite sure how to explain this. You see, When I was a little younger, I was on a police force in my hometown. It was small, so we did everything from homicide to rescuing cats that got stuck in trees. One day we were called to a fire. It was the most significant event of my life. I saved a young family that day, but I didn't save the other 7 people left in that building. I wanna honor them the best that I can. I don't want any names, because I haven't got any, and if I do have the date, it would be under the tattoo real small. Do you have any idea what to do with all that?" He asked almost desperately. His southern accent had come in strong though his story, a sign that he was distressed or nervous.