We Wore Our Scars like Wedding Rings

Things got rough after a few years. We ran out of ideas. You held my hand to the red-hot stove burner coils. I threw you down the stairs and sent a bowling ball crashing down after you. Once, we plunged into a ditch in the car and rolled once, twice, three times, landing upright beside a cow.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked.

"What does it look like?"

"Jesus, you're bad at this."