His mom squinted at my bloody tunic. “Probably just method acting, honey.”
I was different. I was Bleed 35.
The star-compass, designed to sit flat, had been driven inward by the impact. I looked down. A perfect circle of red was blooming on my white tunic, right over my belly button. A navel stab. JK Navel Stab Bleed 35
I smiled, clutching my belly. Bleed 35. The most memorable nobody at the con.
I was Cosplayer 35. My name is Kiko, and I was dressed as a hyper-detailed space pirate. My centerpiece was a gleaming, golden navel ring shaped like a miniature star-compass. His mom squinted at my bloody tunic
Steve’s eyes widened. He looked at his clipboard, where a ticker read: Minor Incidents: 34 . He drew a shaky line. “You’re the one,” he whispered.
“Just a quick adjustment,” I whispered, fiddling with the clasp. The crowd for the main stage was surging. A Gundam knocked into a Pikachu, who stumbled into me. The star-compass, designed to sit flat, had been
But they had stopped. Thirty-four little medical tents. Thirty-four band-aids. Thirty-four apologies.