Scarred

         It runs on an arch over her chest, beginning on the inside of either breast, peaking on her sternum in such a way that it is seen easily in her swimsuit. The scar is jagged and white. The children at the pool are intrigued by it. They approach the girl and ask her, “What is it?”

          “A scar,” she tells them, “A shark swallowed me up to my chest and bit down!” The kids squeal.

One asks, “What did its tongue feel like?” The girl runs her fingers over the scar and remembers the surgery.

         “Rough,” she says, “like sandpaper.”