I rubbed my hands together, but the blood wouldn’t come off.

Maybe it was because the girl was so young, and her plasma had more vigor. In my mind’s eye I could still see her brassy highlighted hair tied up in a bun atop her head. She wore boots, skinny jeans, and a baggy t-shirt that hung off her left shoulder. The sixteen-year-old’s outfit reminded me of what I used to wear in high school, only my pants were baggy, and my tank top was skintight. Her boyfriend was in my chair finishing his transition into a full-fledged hipster. His bangs covered most of his face, unless he flipped his head to the side, letting his dark brown, layered hair cascade in the air like a waterfall. It reminded me of a certain pop star that teenagers hated being compared to.

I’d just finished t...

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