Peer reviews, Complete 4 peer Reviews. 100 word each for all reviews. 400 words total

An overarching ledge was above me as I walked down a concrete path. When I found the sign, I walked into a well-lit building that was surprisingly spacious. The lobby was small and inviting, yet unfilled. There were images of design and lettering that was projected out of the wall; an effort to help costumers decide on a chosen design, and preferred formatting, yet also of permanence. 

Approaching the counter, I was welcomed by a gentle looking fellow. I noticed his tattoo on his upper right arm. It had faded comfortably into his skin. The design was meticulous, which seemed to indicate his dedication to the art; he was not beginning, nor practicing, but knew the work of design. 

“I have an appointment at noon,” I said.

“Yes, with me,” he replied. 

He handed me forms and a small, yellow pad. I took a dull pencil to sketch a design on the pad. When I finished the sketch, I asked the thoughts of my mother, for she seemed displeased; she suggested an addition, which served to enhance the sketch. He made a template of it as I finished filling out forms. Around me appeared four other costumers. In the lobby behind me was a couple, not peaking past their mid-twenties. They were discussing formatting and lettering probably to solidify their undying affection for one another. Yet after inquiring, they left shortly thereafter. Directly in front of me stood a mother and daughter. Though the mother was denying her age through a newly, needed tattoo, and a streak of bright pink running through her hair, time had only revealed it. All the while, her daughter was standing next to her with leftover dignity that her mother had set aside. Behind the counter stood a girl who was professional and pleasant to all people. She hurried to her tasks as though time was against her. She walked according to this pace with a sad face, and a tattoo that covered the entirety of her left knee. I wondered if her tattooed knee reminded her to feel, or rather if it was her faint smile. Her coworker was socially engaging, and would include himself freely into conversation that did not start by him. He appeared to be in a continual state of high spirits, yet his less-than-five-minute smoke break seemed necessary to make it through the afternoon. 

Shortly after the smoke had cleared, I was led to a cubicle-like space that was small and disclosed. The artist cleansed my skin to prepare for the template to be applied. He took the paperback seal off of the template to place over my skin. (The template is an ink imprint, which provides design precision for the artist.) As he was removing excess ink, he was listening to a story his coworker was telling. He didn’t react much to the details, which made me wonder if he heard the story before. 

“Did he use tomatoes?” 

“No.”

It’s only practical, I suppose that there must be other ways to remove odors, and it seems by his reaction that he thought so too.

His coworker left, while he opened a sealed package. He pulled out a new needle to insert into an electronic device, which gives the tool its speed and power. To make sure I was fine, he paused, when he began. I knew there would be pain in the process, but the image was important, which gave me surety to see it through. He finished the design. He grabbed wrapping from the counter behind him, and told me I did well. He bound the area for protection from infection, and instructed me to leave the wrapping alone for three hours: 

“Treat it like an open wound.” 

I stood from my chair. Since it had been worked on, the area was already sore. Yet, as I walked from my chair, I knew it would heal.