“What’s that on your shoulder?”

Buddy slowly turns to me, looks me dead in the eyes, and slowly smiles while saying nothing.

I don’t know whether to look at the tattoo or run. And when did they get ink? I’ve never seen this on them before. It doesn’t even look fresh.

Buddy slowly points towards the tattoo, suggesting that I look at it.

Anxiety pulses through my nerves.

As I reluctantly take their advice and cast my gaze over to their shoulder, the words begin to twist and change, morphing and fading into a blur. The skin looks almost explosive, bulging and peaking randomly until eventually, a clear word appears.

“Fatty?”

Buddy’s smile disappears, and he points at my stomach.

“Seriously?”

They turns away, seemingly annoyed with my lack of response.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll go gym with you this weekend.”

Buddy leaps up from the ground at least 4 feet into the air, overjoyed their silly display was enough to finally convince me to return to our friday night ritual of fitness.

Whatever. It’s cheat day today anyway. Plus the tattoo is creepy as hell. Anything to convince Buddy to never do that again.