The Missing Lip

I stared at the hole in her face where her lower lip once was, tags at the ends the only remnants. 

“What on earth happened.” 

“My boyfriend. We’d split up but he wanted to get back together. We met, started to kiss and he just bit my lip off. Clean off.” 

“Where’s the lip, we might be able to reattach it.” 

“He stepped on it. Ground it into the pavement with his heel.” 

The on-call surgeon performed an amazing Z-plasty. Made her look almost normal if nothing like her former self. She asked for a mirror, peered into it, touched the fresh stitches with cautious fingertips and made tentative mouth movements.

As I snapped off my bloody gloves, a nurse held out the phone. “It’s her boyfriend,” she said. “He wants to know if she’s going to be okay.”