An armpit showed through a hole in Jason’s t-shirt as he leaned on the doorframe.
The scarring was minimal, but no hair had grown back through it.
It was a chemical flash of some kind. Valerie had even forgotten the name of the company where it happened. Jason had worked a half dozen jobs since then. She wondered if it was trauma or apathy that caused her blank.
Jason turned, and she saw a gleam near his right hand. It startled her, then she realized it was his pool trophy. EastMeadow Thursday Night Coed.
The thing was more eyesore than trophy. Some ridiculous winged, large breasted thing atop a…
“I’m leaving,” Jason said.
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