The Suture Closes Over Nothing

A wound is stitched shut before it has finished deciding what it is. The thread pulls two edges of skin toward each other, and they comply, the way arguments comply when someone is tired. Beneath the closure, something continues. Not healing, exactly. More like negotiation in a locked room. The body treats the suture as a foreign object and it is right to do so. Thread is not skin. Agreement is not resolution. The scar that forms is tougher than what was there before, and less able to feel the cold.