𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐌 彡 [b. hargrove] [✔]

─ 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨.

*ೃ༄𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀

1984

When waking up in the morning and getting an eye full of sunlight that temporarily left her seeing dark spots, Magdalena May truly wasn't expecting to collect enough willpower within herself to leave her lumpy mattress, drink a cup of black coffee, and then head down to the tattoo parlor she volunteered at, but here she was—Promptly sitting down at the table that she had been assigned by her boss, Mr. Sloan, doodling away at some early morning ideas that came to her whilst she was burning her tongue with the hot caffeinated beverage just half an hour ago.

Each time she had to go into town to assist at the tattoo parlor, Magdalena would just scribble random figures into her journal. She wasn't an artist in the slightest, but between watching customers get tatted by Harvey Sloan and sweeping the floor, the brunette didn't have much going for her. Drawing was the final and only logical option.

Honestly, the girl didn't just head down to the shop in order to doodle, but rather to wait for a delivery of new ink that was promised to arrive on Sunday. And it was Sunday—which is why her boss was in the back smoking his cigarette and doing the daily crossword presented in the newspaper. Today would be a slow day. Granted, every day was slow since Magdalena never got paid.

That was her punishment for acting out and spray painting the side of someone's house. But even though the brunette didn't necessarily like the fact that she had to leave her home on a self-proclaimed lazy day, Magdalena was oh-so grateful for the fact that the weather of Hawkins had amped itself up. It was strange to get a warm day during Fall, but Magdalena wasn't complaining. It brought her closer to the feelings of summer vacation.

The morning sun was pouring through the large glass windows of Indigo Ink—a single ray of sunlight hitting her thigh that was clad in ankle-length red corduroy pants. Meanwhile, Magdalena's upper body was covered by a white top that was tied together with laces in the middle. It was starting to heat up inside the shop more rapidly than the girl expected, but the lukewarm breeze that was emanating from the outside seemed to be canceling out whatever humidity was building up in the compact area.

Magdalena subconsciously began smiling to herself whenever a curious little gust of wind would sneak in through the open door of the tattoo parlor and caress the exposed skin of her neck. The girl was so glad that she decided to pin her shoulder-length hair into a not-so-neat bun that would surely make ballerinas bawl and hide away in shame.

Magdalena chewed on the inside of her right cheek, erasing a part of a sketch that was steadily starting to look like the vision she had this morning: a naked woman with a flower crown on her head drinking from a bottle of scotch. The drawing was rough with uneven, jagged lines, though it could've been called abstract. Magdalena was debating on putting a halo over the woman's head in reference to her thinking that the female species descended from the Heavens above. Well, not all. But most of the women that Magdalena had come in contact with were mesmerizing both physically and emotionally. Her best friend Lulu Hayashi was a prime example of this. Magdalena couldn't imagine herself living in a world without Lulu.