I lift up the back of my shirt, and show him the ugliest part of me, the deep purple burn scar that covers most of my back from falling asleep on a heating pad over night.
"How did that happen?"
I tell him.
"Looks new, looks like it coulda just happened."
I try to explain that yes, just an ordinary heating pad you can buy anywhere did the damage, years ago, however. "I was thinking about getting a large tattoo to cover it because that's all people see when I turn around," I say.
"Really? You should!" He says excitedly.
I realized later that it was an invitation for him to touch me, and yet, he never did, out of politeness and boundaries, of course.
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