Metacircus Howard Yeh

How I Got My Scar

a scar worth crying about is also worth laughing over.

It was a sunny autumn day. I was sitting under a maple tree reading a
book. She was resting her head on my thigh, her eyes closed, showering
under the blueness of the sky.

She told my thigh a joke. It laughed so hard, it splitted open in the
middle, and light shone out. She was startled. But my thigh kept
laughing, and laughing. And the light grew more intense.

My thigh still laughs from time to time when I think of her.

So the scar never really heals.

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