But hey, the good thing is, I’m a dad now, he says with a bright smile on his face, trying to put off talking about unhappiness for another time. You’re usually trying not to yawn or roll your eyes when people talk about how unhappy they are. I understand, you say, but you never mean it.
But this day is different. This man is different. He’s scarred in a way that is so undeniably obvious. I understand, you say, because you really do. You can talk to me, you know that, right, is all you can come up with. You don’t know what else to say.
He’s looking at you but so impassively, you can tell he’s thinking of his little girl.
The silence becomes unbearable after a while, and his sorrow makes you finally open up about your own life. Your life and the people that are in it and the people that aren’t. You find yourself sharing things you thought you had forgotten, things you dared not admit even to yourself. This surprises you, but you go on anyway, showing him your scars.
You’re still talking and in that moment, you realize that the one person you couldn’t imagine yourself with is suddenly the only person you can imagine yourself with.
He’s holding your hand and you’re leaning on him. Not another word is said.
You’re falling in love and your scars want to belong together.