It had been a wild night. I didn’t remember most of it. It started at some house party, moved to a  club, and then somehow I ended up here. I looked around to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming. No, I was at home, in my own bed, safe and slightly hungover.

My arm was throbbing, and it was starting to give me a headache. I looked down to see what had happened. I didn’t remember getting hit or running into anything. There on my left forearm was a bandage. It didn’t cover the whole arm, just a 1 inch square.

Oh no, I thought. Drunken tattoo. What did the guys talk me into?

I pulled the bandage off, fully expecting a Hello! Kitty to be smiling at me. I was surprised when it wasn’t. Just the number 31, a very simple tattoo.

Not so bad. I can live with that for now, I thought.

I didn’t give it much thought, until the next day. I woke up, looked at my arm. The tattoo said 30. I gave my head a shake. That wasn’t what it said yesterday, but I was hungover. Maybe I was seeing things.

The following day, the tattoo read 29.

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