She Has A Tattoo On The Inside Of Her Wrist
She’s given up on working. She can’t keep a job for more than a couple months, mostly because she hates customers. She doesn’t think she has the credentials necessary for a job without customers. She gave up on relatives and friends when they stopped calling to check on her. She gave up on strangers after she was robbed in a convenience store. You could say she’s given up on people. She’s definitely given up on people.
She gave up her son once.
Or maybe it was her daughter. Possibly neither, because those times back east were a blur. She barely remembers being pregnant, let alone giving birth, but it comes back to her in dreams, through a lens smeared with Vaseline. She can see the hospital room and hear the voices but she doesn’t recognize anyone and can’t understand the words because they’re Deutsch. Sie ist sehr jung, sehr jung. She made some calls back there two years ago, after the dreams started happening, but of course no one was left. They evaporated like contrails. She used to know everything about them but now she doesn’t even remember how she met them or why she went there in the first place. Was that where she gave up on love? Where she gave up on playing the guitar? Was that where she got this stupid fucking tattoo, the one on the inside of her wrist? She can’t remember, so she looked into getting it removed, found out how much it would cost. It’s really pretty reasonable these days.
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