Above each blue
Above each blue vein, numbers flickered—a restless tally of sensation shifting with every remembered moment. The tags weren’t consistent; some glowed intensely while others faded almost from view, as if certain experiences held less value in an unknown exchange. To touch a dimming vein was like holding aged paper, fragile despite its place within this intricate system of accounting. These valuations didn't seem fixed but accrued over time, responding to forces he couldn’t name; the heat from his fingertip barely registered against the cool skin beneath—a quiet hum of diminishing worth.