I received an unusual compliment the other day.
Since I’m now working in a correctional facility, I had to be fingerprinted. When the woman collecting my prints was finished, she looked over the paper and then stated that I have ‘beautiful fingerprints.’
“Really?” I asked, looking at the tips of my blackened fingers.
She nodded. “Yeah. You should never commit a crime. They’ll know you right off. ‘Hey, guys, it’s James.’”
So that’s me: “a forensic scientist’s dream.”
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