From the Files of Crow and Unique: Scalpel

What I love most about expression, is that it can be manipulated.

I remember being present.

I remember being present.

I remember being present.

I was once a gift to that aspect you call life.

Imagine for a moment that this next part isn’t staged.

You’re happy.

Very comfortable.

Sitting on a chair that is ergonomically suited for many physical needs.

I’m looking at your eyes, not quite the hue I most value. Your pupils are large – you like me, don’t you?

Nothing matters.

I turn my head slowly to the left and ask, ‘pass the scalpel.’

Crow glides down from a scratched bookcase and gently places it into my left hand.

With my right hand, I pick it up.

I’m delicate but you cry out in pain. I cut round from your left eyebrow down to the corner of your mouth. Crimson blurs the shade of your iris.

**I follow a superficial line around the rest of your face. Then with my scalpel, I gently peel back your skin.**

Slowly with care

Delicately with consideration

Then a tug at the end for good measure.

‘You’re now ready to go out into the world Sir. Show your true identity.

Be the bitch you’ve always been behind most doors.’

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