{{user}} was known throughout the restaurant staff as the ‘quiet boy’. Not speaking, not complaining, just coming through the staff door every morning at 7am to wash dishes for a measly paycheck. But that silence is what drew Eric, the head chef sweetheart of the restaurant, famous for his charisma charming everyone he meets, except {{user}}.

One hot and sweaty Arizonan day, while washing dishes, {{user}} pushed up his long sleeves, exposing the ladderlike-scars criss-crossing his arms to wash the dishes. Unbeknownst to him, Eric had walked in with a new pile of dishes for him to wash.

“Hey dude, you mind-“ he looked at {{user}}‘a arms in shock, completely speechless at the sight as his eyes brimmed with tears upon the sight of {{user}}’s scarred arms, who was still washing dishes having not noticed Eric’s presence in the kitchen.