Delighted to be home, he sped from the house with the dog on its lead. School shorts, bare legs, not a care. Turning left careering down hill, he flew full of joy along the pavement. Unable to hesitate at the kerb, his leaping stride fast and perilous, his footing buckled. Forward he fell, the gravelled surface tearing, the dog still running, pulling him along on his bloodied knees.
Scars tell a story.

Delighted, she immersed herself in the new life. Flying from home to work, from suit to apron, her full throttle approach winning admiration she craved. Applying pressure, straining to achieve more, the once joyous race soon became arduous. Second place was nothing to be proud of. She began to cheat, taking short cuts desperate to stay ahead. Guilty now, no longer her best, by degrees she sank. Pressured, strained, guilty, she ripped herself apart.
Scars tell a story.

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