It was our father who gave me the idea when he noticed how much darker my left arm is compared to my right.
“You drive in the sun all day?” he asked me between bites of his gourmet enchiladas.
I told him I did.
“Doesn’t your company give you shirts that protect you from the sun’s rays?” he asked.
I told him they didn’t.
“They should,” he said with a snort. “If your arm cooks in the sun for too long, eventually it’s going to look as bad as your brother’s face.”
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