My new apartment’s color scheme is reminiscent of a cicatrix after you’ve burned yourself with a trick teapot from Lady Mendl’s tea salon–hues of pinks, creams, and blue (for the bruised area after her ghost threw countless rock-hard scones at you).

–Cindy Capleton

No matter how many years pass, the cicatrix remains from the years of my life I wasted with Mr. Diapers, who I thought truly loved me but just used me in a scheme to get free PCP from my dad (the neighborhood’s most esteemed supplier at the time).
-Gladys Potter

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