Anna Fischer

Damaged Goods

“I hate to say it, but you’re damaged goods,” he said in a gruff, matter-of-fact tone. “You just aren’t what we’re looking for.” I nodded my head, holding back tears, and thanked him for his time through quivering lips. My evident heartbreak must’ve triggered a small slice of humanity in him, and in an apparent attempt to console me, he said, “We’re just looking for people who have it all together. Scars and stuff just make people grossed out, you know?” I nodded, the first tear halted in its tracks by fleeting shock that he could say such a thing to someone who had been through what I had.