There Were Scars On His Face
by Noise Pollution
Today at work, I saw a man who was likely a burn victim, like me. He had scars on his face, while mine are all in places that are easily hidden.
I thought about saying something to him, but I didn’t.
I wonder if he noticed my frequent glances in his direction, and if he thought I was just another gawker.
I wonder if we would have had a great conversation, or if it would have been just as awkward as I imagined it would be.
I wonder how long it will be before I see another person “like me”, and if when the time comes again, I’ll say anything to them.
I don’t know. I’ve never spoken to another person with scars like mine before. I’ve never met someone who has the same horrific memories of pain and fear that I do. I don’t know what I would say, or what I should say. I don’t know. Maybe I missed out on something today.