Alyson

The first time I was sliced unexpectedly was by a tuna can. I had done the tuna can routine seamlessly before, I’d never been cut by the tuna can. So it was shocking when it finally happened. I had always thought, in the back of my mind, that the tuna cans wouldn’t really cut me, even though it’s common knowledge that anything with a sharp rim has that ability. Is it my fault? A tuna can can’t help what it is.

When it first happens, you feel something, but notice how odd it is that you don’t continue to feel the slicing pain—what is this magically slow and confused state of being? Seconds later, the sting comes with the blood, both of which were hiding within one of the various caves inside your body. It hurts, but you feel the warmth return to your head, because you aren’t confused anymore. You got sliced. That is all.

It wasn’t a tuna can, and my breath was taken away from me by the volume of the pain. The cut was of the deep variety even though you couldn’t see it, accompanied by a sting that went all out, just for special occasions like this one.

I stumbled the rest of the way to the car but instead of trying to tend to my wound, I was focused on appearing not to be hurt. I know how to be hurt on the inside, but still don’t know how to be hurt on the outside.

Getting in the car will feel better, but the blade climbs into the backseat. ♦