“See this one?” Danielle asked, waving her left foot. “It's a bit faded, but that was my first ever!”

The man cowering in the shadow of her bare feet, propped up on her coffee table, didn't seem to take notice, so Danielle leaned forward on the coach and grabbed her ankle. Sure enough, there on her left sole was the tattoo;  a simple black outline in the style of a crime scene chalk outline. The full outline wasn't much bigger, much, than the man shivering under her toes.

“Yup! Just like that! Me and my friends had gone to the hookah lounge when it happened. That one where they give you those really nice, private, rooms to smoke in? We'd been sitting around, smoking, when my favorite song at the time, you know the one?” she explained, turning her foot over the tiny man and wiggling her toes. “It's called ‘Dance Until You Die’ by Alana? So yeah. I got up and started dancing.”

Danielle began bouncing her heels along the coffee table, mimicking her dancing on that hookah lounge floor so long ago. The crashing of her heels sent the tiny man screaming and scrambling to avoid being crushed as she giggled and hummed bars from the minor Latin dance hit that had dominated the radio waves at the time. Every impact of her heels shaking him off his feet and forcing him to lunge and roll out of the way. Eventually Danielle stopped, setting her feet to either side of him.

“But anyways, I heard a little squeak and felt a crunch, right here…” Danielle pointed to her tattoo. “beneath my foot. Sure enough, stuck to the bottom of my sole was this tiny lady, all broken and twisted. I immediately showed my girlfriends and they took a bunch of photos. I've still got them around here somewhere, saved to an old phone, I think. Don't know how she got in there, or what she was doing, sneaking around, but after a couple of good photos, I just…”

Danielle slapped her left sole down on the coffee table, eliciting a fresh scream from the tiny man who had just missed being crushed underfoot by a hair’s width. She ground her sole against the wood, like snuffing out a cigarette, before dragging her sole back over the edge of the coffee table, scraping off the imagined remains.

“And then I went back to dancing. The song wasn’t over.” Danielle said nonchalantly. “I don’t get tattoos of every tiny I dispose of, hell, I’d have no free space left, but I’ve been thinking about getting a matching tattoo for my right foot.”

She hovered her right sole over the tiny man, casting him once again in darkness. Her toe rings caught the light and glinted as she taunted him. Even if he had attempted to flee, Danielle was well prepared, with nowhere for him to end up but under her foot.

“So, how about it?” Danielle asked. “Want to inspire my next tattoo?”