Kit BashirLike that old trope from the sci-fi show with the girl in the box, we got into the habit of marking our skin at every incident when visiting distant family. “Let me see your arms” my spouse said as, homeward, I got into the waiting carriage.
I proudly displayed unblemished skin.
“How?”. Utter disbelief; my trip to see my parents being unaccompanied was due to unwillingness, not inability.
“Nothing good. I just splurged on racism cancelling earbuds at the spaceport”
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