When Granny was 82, she showed me the cavernous space where her breast had been removed.
"Wanna see the ugly?”
"No," I said, flinching.
She lifted her nightshirt anyway. A black jagged line sliced across the concave, saggy skin where half her womanhood had been erased. No nipple, nothing.
I sucked air through my teeth.
"Oh, Granny, that hurts. Are they going to take the stitches out, or…"
"They already did."