The Breaks

by Scott King

When the clerk at the convenience store takes my twenty for the frozen mac and cheese and the cheap wine, I barely notice the fractal pattern of cracks running across his face. They are unique yet generic, like a one-of-a-kind snowflake in a field of snow. Special, but not.

When I was young, I tried to decipher the meaning of the breaks. My mother had one that ran from below her right eye, across her nose, and then curled around beneath her cheek. It was geometrical, made from dozens of rectangles overlaid, making her look like a digital android, or some sort of science fiction space traveler. For years I prodded, trying to figure out what in her past could have caused such a break, but I was never able to determine anything.

I suppose that is the nature of being human. We are all broken, and sometimes we don’t even know why. (Continue Reading…)