I Die Each Time

"Oww!" He squeezes the pliers too hard and drops them, pulling his hand up to his face for scrutiny.

"What?"

"Look at that!"

He holds his hand out to me. A small set of thin lines are indented on his palm. I point, my finger close to his skin.

"That?"

"Yeah."

He jerks his hand away, quickly, before I can touch it.