The Scar from Years Ago

He moved aside to lick the can
The tomato paste in his mouth
Blissful to the palette
The palatableness soon expired
He peeped into the can
There was still some remnant
So he forced his right thumb in
A pang ran through the digit
He pulled it out quickly
Blood gushed freely
As red as the paste
He sucked on the thumb
To arrest the intruding leak
The thumb hurt
But nobody must know
Hiding the iniquity under the bed
A secret between him and himself
Grandmother called from the kitchen
He threw the can away
The hurting thumb stashed away
In the pocket of the knickers
Walked casually into the kitchen
As would any four year old
“Mma, you called.”
Grandmother glanced at him
“Are you alright?” 
“Yes Mma.” 
Grandmother offered a big slice of dried fish
With a grin he collected and dashed outside
Momentarily forgetting the pain on his thumb 
As he munched the fish
He smiled to himself
His smartness impressed him
He’s dodged Grandmother’s irritating first aid medication
But the scar lingered all through his life

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