Lips

When he was anxious he bit the skin on his lips, peeled it off in thin strips like removing a sticker from a sheet. He wasn't sure why he did this, but it was difficult to stop. He could feel the inconsistencies on his raw flesh, the changes in texture, the dried pieces that hung on scraping his upper lip. And so he went to work, leveling the surface, creating a smoothness. Perhaps he thought his worries were stuck in his skin and by tearing away the top layer everything would be made okay.