He traced the veins in his hands with red ink. Once he had marked them all, he moved on to his wrists, and then up his arms.

I sat across the room and watched him, the smoky haze blurring my vision. When he reached his elbow he switched the pen to his other hand and started on the other one.

“Why are you doing that?” I asked.

For a long while he didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge my question. Then he looked up with a fleeting smile.

“How else will I to learn to know every inch of my body?”