A scar

 

Whenever I decide to wear a short-sleeve shirt, my scar is perfectly visible. Actually, since it is right below my left elbow, it’s often enough to roll up the sleeve of a regular shirt to show it. And people usually do notice it easily. It’s huge, and it’s – not that I’m boasting – rather impressive: almost like some sort of a fancy symbol. A person imaginative enough would see something really amazing in it, like a decaying leaf or some tangled spider’s web.

A journey

As the train gathered speed, he suddenly remembered.

It came unexpectedly and paralyzed him, as if he had suddenly lost control over his own memories. The views outside the window were moving faster with every second, but he didn’t see them anymore. With eyes still fixed on the dirty pane, he sat frozen, half-consciously letting some old images flood his mind. Fascinating that it took only one little memory, carelessly let into consciousness, to cause the whole avalanche of forgotten details.