Comedo

There was a thing on his throat. Just to the left of his Adam’s apple. Hidden under the three day growth. He couldn’t stop his fingers from fiddling, squeezing, pinching, playing at it. He knew he should leave it alone, wait until he got home, and washed his hands, and had a mirror. But he didn’t stop.

He spent the whole morning picking at it.

Later, after a hot shower, he titled his head up, looked down, managed to see it and set to work. A loud pop, a dribble of blood.

And a small diamond appeared between his fingers.

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