“I just wanted a better look!”

It was 5:30 p.m. on a humid July evening, and I’d just wordlessly yanked my heavily tattooed arm from the clammy grip of an utter stranger. His frustrated response rang throughout the crowded car of the Manhattan-bound N train, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment as fellow passengers shuffled awkwardly to avoid the commotion.

Read more at Yahoo Lifestyle.

Published by Sam Manzella

Writer and editor.