The speed with which he answers makes it obvious he’s been thinking about that one for a while. It’s a single line of cursive black writing and consists of four words:
Remember Rule Number One.
“Well, if you must know, that one’s my favorite.”
“What’s rule number one?”
“f**k what they think.”
He stops mid-snip and looks up at me. “Who’s they?”
“Everyone. Anyone else but me. It’s a reminder that other people’s opinions don’t matter. To live my life how I want, regardless of outside pressure. To be unapologetically me.”
After a moment, he nods slowly, satisfied. He goes back to work, teasing out a severed stitch and placing it to one side on the old bandage. “And the words ‘you can’ on your right ankle?”
“I used to say ‘I can’t’ to my mom a lot when I was little. It was just an excus
