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.

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