I leaned down, running the tip of my tongue up the length of her scar, feeling the jagged, thin line curve upward and give way to the smooth skin under her ear. It never escaped my attention how she hid it around my brother, as if it made her less beautiful. No. Our scrapes and bruises, tattoos, scars, smiles, and wrinkles told our stories, and I didn’t want a pristine piece of wallpaper. I wanted her and everything she was. At least for tonight.
