A shiny scar
I reclined on the brown leather couch. Ryan put a fat beige chenille throw pillow under my foot and walked into the kitchen, flipping on more lights as he went. I heard the crunching of the ice dispenser as I looked around his living room.
I had never seen a TV that big. It took up half the space on the cream-colored wall, with just enough room for a built-in cabinet which I assumed held all sorts of electronic equipment. And probably an XBox or PS3. Or both.
Ryan came back in with a clear bag of ice. He patted the bag flat, then put his mouth to the opening and breathed in the air, which I found strangely intimate. He twisted the top and tied it in a knot. He then put a towel on my ankle before setting the bag gently upon it.
“You’re a professional.”
“Too much practice at it,” he said, pulling over a soft green arm chair to sit next to me.
“You date lots of klutzy women?”
He laughed. “Nah.” He pulled up the bottom of his jeans to just below the knee, where I could see the beginning of a shiny white scar.
This piece is a work of fiction, inspired by the prompt of writing about setting from Write on Edge. It is the continuation of last week’s piece, where Cam falls down the stairs.