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“You’re allergic,” Paulie tells me, running his finger around the braised red skin up my neck. “This happened before, and it’s worse this time.”
I turn back to the mirror, pulling my collar down further, straining to follow the inflamed trail that encircles my throat.
“Allergic to what?” I ask. “The ink?”
“Probably. It happens. More common with red than black, but still.”
Continue reading “Lanternalia by Will Pinhey”
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