Gav Young

Travelling in on the train today I glanced at a young lady heading to town. Sharply dressed and confident she looked to be an office worker starting her week. It wasn’t the clothes that caught my eye, it was some other feature. This feature told me, in one glance, that the confidence was not natural it had been learnt. The feature was the network of straight, almost parallel, scars on her forearm. It was only a glimpse before a sleeve fell down covering her history. I looked up to a confident face with just a hint of discomfort that I may have seen something. There are few advantages to looking like I do, if you exclude guaranteed entrance into bar brawls, but this is one. I waited for her eyes to take in my tattooed arms and reach the scars. You can see a change in people’s eyes that confirms…

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