Stigma. A horrible word, one could think. A powerful word. “A mark of disgrace”, they said. The city air was cold against my skin as I walked past the, just as cold, faces of the people streaming down the streets of Ladhith. It was a chilly day in the busy city. The mood was different. The air was different. I couldn’t tell what it was. Something felt off. I was minding my own business, walking back to my small home, when a sharp pain ran through my arm. Stigma. Finding a safe place, I rolled up the sleeve of my coat and inspected my arm. It was worse. On my arm I found that the word “Stigma” was glowing against my skin with an excruciating heat. Stigma. Panicking, I quickly slid the sleeve back down and rushed to the tall building
