That's not a dotted line...


It would be redundant to say Bit often missed the point—but this time, he really did. It went hopelessly wide, sailed past his shoulder, on into clear blue skies and back down again, crashing through metaphorical windows and bouncing to a stop amid showers of mental glass, blunted by an oblivious mind and teenage hormones.

Yes, bouncing would be the right word. "...you want me to sign those? Won't it wash off?"

The girl sighed, shifted, readjusted her top. "I can get it tattooed?" she said, as if it were obvious. "Now hurry up, my friends want a go."


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