Checkered Hearts
The fluorescent lights caught the gold in his brown eyes, the flecks of lighter color near the pupils that made him look perpetually surprised, perpetually kind.
"I know his anatomy," Datu said. "The way his ribs curved around his heart. The adhesions from an old appendectomy—he was, what, sixteen? The scar tissue that slowed my dissection. I know the exact pressure his aorta can withstand before it tears. Does that count as knowing him?"