My hands are upon his face, mirror to the spot where I’ll carry red, puckered scars for the rest of my life.
In his gaze, they seem to matter less. We are not broken things, neither of us.
We are cracked pottery mended with lacquer and flakes of gold, whole as we are, complete unto each other.
Complete and worthy and so very loved.
“In the east,” she says after a time, her gaze still downcast, “there is a tradition known as “kintsukuroi”. It is the practice of mending broken ceramic pottery using lacquer dusted with gold and silver and other precious metals. It is meant to symbolize that things can be more beautiful for having been broken.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask.
At last she looks at me. Her irises are polished obsidian in the moonlight. “Because I want you to know,” she says, “that there is life after survival.”
― Mackenzi Lee, The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue