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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Recycle - 2. Chapter 2

“Is that new?” Elena asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Kiran answered. “Well, a couple of days now... and it’s faded. My girlfriend says it’s henna.”

“May I look?” Elena stood. “Or do you want one of the guys...”

“No... I’m not shy.” He grinned. “And I’ve had people looking at it since Wednesday... Wednesday night.”

It was Friday afternoon.

Elena came around to his side of the table, and he stood, so she didn’t have to bend. Again, he held his shirt open because it had naturally closed.

“How dark was it?” she asked.

He tried to look down at his chest but couldn’t really see the tattoo clearly. It was only six inches long and almost right below his collarbone. “Do you have a mirror?” he asked.

It wasn’t a question they got asked a lot in the conference room. “Do you want to go into the bathroom?” Elena asked.

“No... I don’t think it’s faded much in the last couple of hours.” And he smiled. “At first... after my buddy told me about it... I went straight back to the shower and tried scrubbing it off. But it didn’t budge... just made my skin red. So I turned it into a funny story that night and started showing it off at the party. Finally, I just took my T-shirt off, so I didn’t have to keep pulling it up.”

“But it’s been fading since then?”

“Yeah... I guess that’s what henna does. My girlfriend said they use it for temporary tattoos... and for really fancy wedding tattoos in India. I ought to know a little about that ‘cause my mother’s family’s from there. But I don’t. And my girlfriend said there are stencils...”

“This looks like it’s been stenciled.”

“That’s what people’ve been saying. And they’ve said it’s so small – I guess the Indian things can be complicated – that it looks like it was easy to apply – and to fill it in. My girlfriend also said there are markers... originally, they used a brush... But these are like white board markers, only they don’t erase.”

“Even white board markers don’t quickly come off your skin.”

“Then maybe it’s that... probably be easier to buy. I’ve never heard of the others.”

“What color was it?”

“Originally? Dark brown – almost black at first. It lightened up when I scrubbed. That’s why my girlfriend said it was henna.”

“I think – if it was black – it would just go gray.”

He nodded. “That makes sense.”

“And you think it happened in under a minute?”

“I don’t know... I can’t tell... I’m only guessing ‘cause of what other people said. I don’t know how long I was really out.”

“What were you wearing?”

“My usual – running shoes, shorts, a T.”

“And your shirt was still on?”

“Oh, yeah... or I would’ve noticed.”

“Was it stained?”

Kiran had to think about that. “You know, I didn’t look. I just threw it on the floor of my closet, with everything that’ll get washed when I run out.”

“Have you done that?”

He laughed. “Nah... that only happens once a month. School hasn’t been going that long.”

“So you could check your shirts?”

“Sure, but...” He hesitated, then smiled again. “It’s just that I have lots of T’s... and a lot look the same... No logos – I hate them... Just plain – black, or gray, or dark blue. So I’m not sure anything would show, even if I found the shirt.”

“It probably doesn’t matter,” Elena agreed. “I was just checking.”

“Sure thing.”

Elena had been studying the tattoo. “This is probably too personal – and I’ll have to ask my boss if I can even do this... But can I take a picture?”

“Sure. Let me take my shirt off, so it’s easier.”

“Let me check first.”

“And I’ve already got some pictures in my phone.” He laughed. “I’ve been sending them all over the place.”

Elena nodded but stayed in the doorway. “That would be easier. Thanks. But let me still check to see if there are forms.”

She was back in a couple of minutes, and in that time Kiran had pulled out his phone and taken off his shirt.

“I just took a selfie... a couple of them... I should’ve thought of that when I asked for a mirror. And, wow, it really has faded. Look at the first shots.”

Elena did. Owen said it was all right and not intrusive. But she asked Kiran to put back on his shirt. As he did, and buttoned it, she compared what turned out to be over a dozen photos.

“The first one...” Kiran explained, “... the one that’s still a little red? ... I took that in my dorm room – I don’t take my phone to the shower. The rest I took at the party – or people took and sent me – or posted and sent around. I was kind of like a little porn star for the night. But I kept my pants on.” He laughed.

Elena ignored that and said, “It really has faded. In a few more days, it might be gone.”

“My girlfriend said they can last up to a couple weeks. And if you want them to... and you’re careful... longer than that. But I’ve just been showering as usual, and it’s going away. I mean, there’s nothing in it for me.”

Elena returned his phone, after giving him the station number and asking him to text the photos. “Why did you wait a two days?” she asked. “Even if you’re really not worried... Why did you come in now?”

He looked a little embarrassed about that, too. “Well,” he slowly admitted, “people’ve been saying I should – and my parents. I tried to blow it off, but people insist I’ve actually been assaulted.”

Copyright © 2021 RichEisbrouch; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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