Misfit Toys

He showed her the dented scrape on his arm. The paint was long gone.

She saw the sharp edge, the dark rust – saw where he’d picked at it for years.

Silently, intently, she rolled up her pant leg,

exposing the broken hinge where her knee bent the wrong way.
He saw how much it would pain her when she walked.

“Everybody’s got a hurt part,” she said.

He finally met her eyes.

And there was love.

~Blaire 2/19/11