Scar

The scar on his upper lip had stood the test of time.

It had survived close to 348 close shaves. Some from the contaminated razors from the road side salons. Some from the electric shaver.

It no longer looked like a scar. It was just a line. Dividing the time into two unequal parts. Pre & post.

But this is not really about the scar.

Last night when he had kissed her, she had been a little wilder than usual. She had bit his upper lip lightly. The scar was quiet used to the odd-flavored lipstick, not the hard calcium of the teeth. She had noticed him cringe a bit, but continued to caress his lips with hers. When he had cringed one more time is when she got a little angry.

She had pulled away, almost immediately. She had never really got along well with the scar. She always got judgmental about people who thought scars were sexy.

He had realized it was the cringe. It was the scar.

He took his fingers to the scar. In a moment he recollected, frame by frame, its birth and youth.

He saw her tracing her fingers, seductively, over it. Then slowly taking his lower lip between her teeth.

He knew she, like everyone else, found scars sexy.

The first time she felt him cringe, she had smiled, rather wickedly. She felt she was stronger. But the seductive smile somehow justified all the stares the scar had got him. He could kill for that one smile.

He felt how the worst things lead to the best. He felt angry - why did people blame him, laugh at him for something that was a leftover from an accident, something that was not his doing. But she saved his faith in humanity.

Ha ha ha ha. faith in humanity... ha ha ha ha.

How corny was that. Tonight she was coming home again. What would she be wearing?

She was wearing a black dress, with a steel grey shrug, to cover her naked shoulders. They kissed the moment she was in the living room, door closed behind her.

The shrug off... hands on naked shoulders... trying to slide the straps off them... lips quenching their thirst.

It was when she took the scar, between her teeth, slowly, almost unknowingly, between her teeth. Everything, in a flash, became unreal. Blurred.

He slowly opened his eyes, looked at her, from the corner of his eye, her eyes were still closed.

Time stood still.

She was wearing a black dress, with a steel grey shrug, to cover her naked shoulders when she came. He was almost dying to take her in his arms and kiss her hard. To him, she didnt seem that eager.

She closed the door behind her and almost instantly kissed him. Hard and wet. Shrug off... hands on naked shoulders... trying to slide the straps off them... lips quenching their thirst.

This was the first time he actually felt the warmth of the tongue on the scar. The surprise made him cringe, yet again. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Crying is so corny... he thought. She really had begun to find the scar sexy.

The kiss lasted forever... the tears too. She tasted the salt from his tears. Opened one eye, smiled.

He was looking at the moon, lying alone in bed. The room was still smelling of her. The sheets were still a little wet with their sweat. He could still feel her soft hair, against his shoulders, her well groomed fingernails digging into his navel. He again heard her say - I love you. Also say - we might not meet again. Ever.

He cried again. This time alone.

Now there will be a new division in time. There will be a new 'Pre' and a new 'Post'. A new test of time had begun.