SOME KIND OF DOT Katrina Lising Litrus editor in chief He looked at her for the first time today. They had known each other for years, since their childhood. They grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and even hung out with the same group of kids. They weren't best friends, not even close friends really, just two people linked by geography for most of their lives. But today, he saw her. He really saw her. He wondered why in all these years he never noticed the scar on her nose. He had seen it, of course, but it never struck him to look at it long enough to see what it was. He figured it was a freckle, a mole, a smudge, or just some kind of dot. Either way, it never mattered to him. But today was different. Today he sat in class across from her staring, thinking of the many ways she could have gotten it. Chicken pox probably, he thought, maybe the measles. It was kind of a hole, with no particular shape. He'd go as far as to say it was a little crater, except that it sounded mean. Anyways, it was too small to be a crater. Craters were big moon holes. They were ugly, and this was neither ugly nor pretty. It was the thing on her nose, and it was more of a scar, kind of a hole. A gleam of light brushed past the blinds and struck her right on the nose. He squinted, taking in the new details the light revealed. It was deeper on the left side.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and then turned around to face him.

"What is it?" she asked him.

"I don't know."