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Summary
"She’s running a hand, feather light, over his back when she finds the dimple, the white starburst of scarred skin just above the curve of his ass, half hidden by the sheet gathered there. He shifts his weight a little bit, but otherwise doesn’t move, lets her pass over it once, twice, three times. ‘I don’t remember this,’ she says quietly."
A story of scars, and how they become part of us over time.
