I live in a world where your whole life is defined by a number on your wrist that appears when you’re 10. Supposedly, the higher the number, the more capacity you have to contribute to society. I don’t have just a plain old number marking, I have a “sideways eight”. When people first see it they think it’s an eight, and when people ask, I say it is. But in reality I know what it is. Considering the fact that I’ve been alive for the past 300 years.
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