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Tatooed: Things That Don't Come Off Easily

He said “I’ve missed you.” My heart sank.
“But do you forgive me?” I started to close the door, but he stuck his foot in the way. “Why now?” I gestured around me. “Why this time?” His lips parted, as he sang my favorite lines from Rent.
There is no future. There is no past. I live this moment as my last.
“So what are you saying? You’ve forgotten everything? The gossip? The shame we endured? Because, I haven’t. And if I were you… If I were you, I wouldn’t forgive me.”
“It’s a good thing you aren’t me, then. But, this doesn’t mean we start off where we left off. I’ve got a wife and kids now.”
“So why’d you come? And more importantly, how’d you find me?”
“You aren’t very repentent.” He replied grimly, ignoring both my questions. As he brushed past me, and took off his jacket, I recognized a tatoo on his arm.
“You still have me tatooed to you.” I pointed at his left arm.
“Yeah, well, these things don’t come off easily.”

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