Pins and Staples

"That's a weird bump."

What weird bump.

"On your middle finger."

I can't tell her it's there because of her. I can't tell her about the staples, how the skin grew over them. How they're a part of me now. She'd get upset. And it's strange to not want it to happen.

It's good she can't see my foot, covered in a dozen tiny spots, filled with a dozen little pins.