Author: Olavia Kite

Today I had my second fingerprinting appointment. The final test. Would I prove capable of producing a decent enough fingerprint for the machines to recognize once and for all?

As a matter of fact, I did!

On the screen, my fingerprints looked like ancient maps, barely legible and crisscrossed with wrinkles. Still, even with a weird hole in the middle of one of the images—nail polish residue?—, the System accepted my fingerprints this time around, and the process moved swiftly into the next phase.

I didn’t even want to believe the lady at the office when she said the fingerprints had been accepted. We both cheered when the acceptance notification popped up.

My hard work paid off, even if my keyboard is now all shiny and slippery from all the hand lotion.

I have resigned myself to my fate, and my fate is to have unreadable fingerprints. I’ve been moisturizing like crazy, but no sooner have I applied lotion than my skin returns to its normal condition: bone dry. Rango under the sun dry. I had never stared so much at my fingers before. Deep ridges traverse my fingertips like violent scars, like the surface of Europa.

There’s not much more I can do to force my hands to produce acceptable marks. And now my computer keyboard is all shiny. Ugh.

This blog has three post categories: poetry, fiction, and rant. It’s been quite a while since I last used poetry or fiction. I once considered myself a potential serious writer of poetry/fiction, but eventually I realized that was not the direction my life was taking. After all, try as I might, I never could come up with a good plot for a story—or even a full plot, for that matter. And poetry… it just fizzed out. Unfortunately, I also stopped ranting, which is always good linguistic practice. I did not view it that way back then, as I took my English proficiency for granted.

For the briefest moment, after writing that last sentence, I wondered if I should try my hand at poetry again. Most definitely not. The sensibility, if I ever had any, has disappeared.

Last night, I opened the window in search of some respite from the heat, only to find nothing on the other side. The air was cloyingly gooey, an unnerving stasis for two people seeking just a little bit of breeze to sleep under. As one might expect, we had a pretty rough night.

Fortunately, things seem to be taking a turn for the better now, as tonight I’m writing this with the gentle caress of the long-awaited wind on my bare arms. Will we finally sleep soundly all night?