Tattoo

I chose Aladdin’s magic lamp. It sat on my hip, glinting in gold waiting to hear of my three wishes. They too would see a hint of my tattoo, each time I’d raise my hand to answer a question, or to reach for a book. And just like that a wish would come true: the braces (and everything else) would be forgotten. These last few months of school promised to be different. And they were. I spent the term in a hospital bed with a raging infection.

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