“I like your tattoo,” a library patron says to me today at work.
“Huh? My ta…?” I realise he is looking at the reminder note I’ve scribbled hastily on my inner wrist. I don’t bother to correct him: it’s school holidays and kind of frantic. “Oh. Thanks,” I say instead.
“What is it? Some kind of quote?” he asks intrigued, leaning in to inspect it more closely. “TOP UP YOUR GODDAMN OPAL CARD!!!”, he reads.
A flicker of deep existential uncertainty crosses his face. “Er… cool,” he says at last.
I wonder if he will go home and get inked just like me.