When I was a young kid, I used to play on the street in front of our house alongwith my younger sister. Living in an isolated part of the city, the street did not see much traffic. Although we did see some interesting people use it from time to time. There was the army vet with one leg and his crutch; the bearded man in a floral shirt who passed by every weekend; the woman who lost her kid; and then there was Mr Scar. Even though I had interacted with all of the above characters in one way or another, my conversation with Mr Scar has been the one that has stayed with me all these years. As you might have already guessed, Scar was not his real name. But a name my young mind gave to him due to his distinctive scars across his disigured face. It was a warm July afternoon when I first saw Mr Scar. He was walking along the street in an almost lazy manner, all the while looking at me and my sister as we played. I can't be sure after all these years but I think there was a slight smile on his face as he looked at us play. "Hey! Hey kid!", he shouted at me as he approached us. "You're Denton, aren't you?" "Yes sir.", I remember replying He stooped down to my level and looked into my eyes as he asked,"Do you recognize me?" I was a shy kid. And having a scary stranger ask me these questions without an adult being present made me nervous. "N..no sir!", I said. I guess he sensed my fear because the next moment he stood up and smiled at us and said: "You will. Take care, kid!" before handing both me and my sister a candy bar and walking away. That was the last I saw of Mr Scar. At least for a while. Fast forward to the present time and I am in a nasty accident that burned 60% of my body. I underwent extensive reconstructive surgery on my body and face. They say I was in a coma for most of it. During my coma, this incident from my childhood kept playing in my head. But something always seemed ... off. The day they removed my bandages, they brought me a mirror. But the only face staring back at me was Mr Scar.