She just keeps wiping the table, but she has one of those faces where the feeling pours out through every feature, and I want to kiss her scar and tell her it’s beautiful, but I do nothing of the sort. Instead, I grab an arm, feel the muscle and say she looks strong, good for threshing wheat, and order a jug of the cheapest.
Special place in hell for people who make their insecurities other peoples problems! Go cry alone in your room at night like a normal person!