❝ I knew a boy who liked to draw. He drew pictures that nobody saw. He was most artistic at night, in his bathroom, out of sight. He didn't tell a soul and his gallery grew. His drawings were different, no pencil or pen. But needed a bandage now and again. We stood by the river under the stars. He pulled up his sleeve and showed me his scars. He was embarrassed and looked at his shoes. I pulled up my sleeve and said, "I draw too." ❞ A story in which two people ─ with broken pasts and scarred wrists ─ find love through CD exchanges and broken hearts that need fixing. All rights reserved © vernknight