[ WP ] You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar 's body . The bigger the lie , the deeper and larger the mark . One day , you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen .

Everyone has scars, there's no denying it and if someone does they're just going to get another scar. The scars we get from telling lies do n't hurt us physically, hell, we can hardly even feel them. Some scars are deep, some are hardly noticeable, but they are still there and there's no such thing as a scarless body. The only person that I have met who came close only had one scar, but it was the worst scar I have ever seen. His name is Harold and when I met him all I could see of his scar was the part that went over his eye and down his face and neck into his shirt. It was n't until we got to know each other better that he showed me it's true extent. A scar that continued down past his heart and wrapped all the way to his back. 
 
 I met Harold at a bar a few years after I graduated college, we talked over drinks and found we had a lot in common. Harold was ten years older than me, but we both had a son that was in grade school, they even went to the same school. We met more frequently at the bar and eventually started to spend time together outside of the bar. As the time passed our friendship grew stronger, we did so much together with our children that most people thought that we were related. Our children became best friends as they grew up. We were both single fathers. I had my son with a girlfriend from college who dropped him off with me one day and never came back. Harold's wife left him when his son was only a few years old. 
 
 I've never been one to hide my scars. I talk about most of my scars when the topic comes up, but there are some that only Harold knows the reasoning behind. Harold never talked about his scar and that was fine, I knew when the time was right he would. I never asked because it is n't polite to ask someone about their scars. I tied to not talk about scars around Harold because I knew it made him uncomfortable considering the size of his. The only thing that I know about Harold's scar is that he did n't get it all that long ago. 
 
 I asked Harold how he could go his whole life only telling one lie and he would always say he did n't ever feel the need to lie. Even if we did n't get scars with every lie, I do n't think that Harold would be able to lie. He was always the first to admit he was wrong or that he screwed up. He was down to earth and everyone loved him. Harold was always putting others first, he was always the one with the loudest laugh or the biggest smile. He always seemed to be the happiest person in the room and it was hard to be sad around him. He always lifted everyone's spirits when things seemed bleak. 
 
 One day when Harold and I were with our kids at the local swimming pool Harold fainted. We rushed him to the hospital where they ran some tests on him. I waited with him in hours of agony before they brought back results. Cancer. That's the only word I heard. My mind went blank and I sat in shock with my best friend as the doctor told him there was n't much treatment available because of how far along it was. 
 
 I spent the next few weeks visiting the hospital every day. I spent hours with him at a time and we would talk about everything under the sun and reminisce about all the time we spent together. As his body grew weaker I spent more time at the hospital. I did n't want to lose my friend yet and I knew I needed to be there for the time that he did have left. One day he told me that he wanted to tell me about his scar. He said he knew that I always wanted to ask about it. A scar appeared across my hand as I told him that was n't true and we both laughed. 
 
 He told me that his scar came with one single word. It happened one morning at home while he was laying in bed with his wife. She was admiring his scarless body and they were talking about the life he led up to this point. He told stories about the times that he thought about accepting a scar but he could n't bring himself to lie. His wife stared at him a while, then asked him if he was happy. Harold said yes and smiled, as the scar tore through his body. He said it was the most painful scar imaginable. 
 
 When he was done with his story, he simply said he was going to miss me. I told him I would miss him every day as he closed his eyes for the last time. 

