lines winding beneath my skin. The way they stood out against my pale winter complexion. Had they always been that prominent? Was I dehydrated? Was something wrong?
I spent the next week surreptitiously studying other people’s hands. The barista. My mother. The guy in the elevator. Some had veins like mine. Some didn’t. I found no pattern, no answer, just a growing awareness that I had no idea what was normal and what wasn’t.
Finally, I asked my doctor. She laughed (kindly) and said, “You have fair skin and low
