Yevgeny Zamyatin — We [861]

I remember how she picked up from the table my glass triangle, and while I spoke, she pressed its sharp edge to her cheek; there was a white line on the cheek, then it had filled with pink and vanished. — Yevgeny Zamyatin, We, 861

Note

A striking domestic detail used to measure emotional intensity, where physical pain becomes a marker of absorption.