Lewis takes off his shirt and shows me a scar he’s had for a few years. He got it when he was eighteen and drunk. The story involves a silo and a tractor, and really, that’s all you need to know.
I lift up the left leg of my sweats and show him the scar I got from when I was nine and wiped out on my bike. I repeat the process on my right leg, and then show him the two scars on my other knee from when I was eight and ten and wiped out on my bike.
He and I laugh. My shirt has been off for some time, and I feel self-conscious for the first time this evening.
