After setting the mail down, Roger headed upstairs to his bedroom, stopping momentarily to grab a few cotton balls from the bathroom. He wondered why Jon was acting so strange. How could he not remember his tattoo?
Roger remembered it... well, pieces of it. He had been out with friends, and had drank a few too many Cosmopolitans and... Roger felt himself blush just thinking of that night. Sure, it had been kind of crazy and spontaneous, but he was proud of the way it looked. Maybe he'd get another one. Another butterfly might look nice, on the ankle or something.
As Roger contemplated new tattoo designs, he sat on the bed and removed his shoes and socks. He reached over to the bedside table and pulled a bottle of bright red nail polish from the drawer. Sticking the cotton balls between his toes, he began carefully applying the crimson lacquer with expert precision.
After applying several coats, he moved on to his fingernails, and his mind drifted to his college days. Other fond memories flooded back, like when his basketball team won the conference championship and... wait... that wasn't right. Roger never played basketball. No, how absurd. There's no way I'd risk chipping a nail like that, he thought. And besides, I was too busy with the dance team.
Roger felt briefly confused by that thought as well, but the confusion quickly passed. He turned his attention back to finishing his manicure, and hoped the polish would be dry in time for dinner.
