It is a hockey rink, like I thought. My hockey rink, at SCU. And the figure on the ice is unmistakably me. It’s a ridiculously accurate rendering, and I have the uncomfortable sensation of looking in a mirror. A flattering mirror. He’s drawn my face in a way that makes it obvious it’s me, but also makes me look better than I do. The scars are there—one long one bisecting an eyebrow and traveling across the corner of my eye, with a few smaller ones on my forehead. Somehow, he’s made the scars the least interesting part of my face. It’s how I wish I actually looked.
