[ WP ] When someone is murdered , their name appears on the skin of the killer . You wake up with a name on your arm and no knowledge of how it got there .

37 names. From the crest of the crease of my inner arm stretching all the way to the supple veins on my wrist. 37. 
 
 They were upside down ( to me ), readable from the front ( by anyone who saw me ), and impossible to ignore. 
 
 At first i thought my roommate was pulling a prank on me. I went to the sink in our shared bathroom between our rooms and rubbed some bar soap on my arm, lathered, scrubbed, rinse. nothing. 
 
 I was already late to work so i grabbed a large band-aid from the mirror cabinet, promptly covered my arm all the way down. After that i got ready and stormed out the door grabbing my work hat and keys on the way out. All the while thinking of what i had done last night. 
 
 I had worked the night shift, and this morning i opened. The only thing i did in between was commute and sleep. How? 
 
 I reached my first bus stop and piddled to the bakery in a storm-cloud of thoughts. I almost missed the driver pulling up. Maybe i had done something to the food on accident?. I Googled each name, each local, none customers that i recognize. None took the same bus routine as me. None of the faces ment anything to me. But here they were, forever on my arm. 
 
 I worked in a fever, everyone made me jump. And if anyone asked about my arm i told them it had been the cat and they laughed it off. The day could n't go by fast enough. My lunch was spent looking up news stories from the local news website, nothing stuck out. Murder, large car accident, theft, local events, and the occasional big news story about the president. 
 
 Why, why so many names. On my way out i decided to follow my foot steps exactly. So i did what i had done last night. I grabbed a banana from the counter, but today i had to pay for it... and in a vent of steam i shooed out the door. I stood in the sunlight for just a hot minute trying to remember what i had done. From here i had to go the the second farthest bus stop, the bus had stopped running that late for most of the non-primary locations, which resulted in the long trek to a less familiar location. So... I aimed for there. 
 
 It was gone. The whole bus stop was pieces of shrapnel. The car dealerships little chain fence was around the ground in a mess. There was blood salt and glass around the road and onto the side walk. 
 
 Fuck. 
 
 Last night, i had grabbed a banana. I had scarfed it down on the way to the bus stop and had planned to throw it away at the bus stop garbage can. 
 
 Instead... instead i had propped it up with the intent of someone tripping. I fucking wanted someone to slip on it so i could get a good laugh. That intent had become lethal. 
 
 I pulled up that major car accident on my phone one more time. 
 
 37 names.
