I had a sliver in my palm. I had it for a while. It was uncomfortable, but didn’t really hurt. I’d rub my finger over the scabbed dimple at its end, lost in idle thought, and in some perverse sense it was comfortable. It was familiar. Yesterday, while idly picking at it, I squeezed it and it popped out. Free. Gone. My sliver is gone. The wound is now healing properly.
In an odd sense, and even though it was uncomfortable, I miss my sliver.