My bruised knee, one that earned me a goal the other day in a football match with my friends, within a few days has given way to hardened crust. An unruly patch of coagulated blood. I flinch touching it with my fingers. A throbbing ache quickly spreads beneath my skin, like a drop of ink in clear water. The cut under is still to close, I presume, reeling from the burn. Pricking it prematurely would cause blood to flow. So I let the crumpled square of skin be intact for a few days more, for it to come off on its own when the wound has healed; wondering if it would be sheer foolishness to let her touch me at the heart, where I remember hiding countless such gashes, without ever getting to hear about their crusts being shed.

- Sobhan