66:PM

“They’re gold flakes,” Wallace said, reaching to touch them on his back. “Genuine.”

Tess held her hand against the textured gold on Wallace’s tattoo. She drew her fingers back. “Are not,” she said.

“Indeed they are. The artist was fantastic. He literally fused the metal to my skin, and I have to get it retouched every five years.”

The gold leaf made a pattern of fish scales across his lower spine.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, turning his head halfway.

“Not as beautiful as a gold flake.”

He considered it. “Maybe not. It was a very special process.”

“Must have been,” Tess said. She felt sure she would die alone.