The Wound

We were conducting our seasonal deep clean at my house. I was almost at the end too, finishing off by cleaning the bedroom windows. But to open these windows to clean the exterior part I had to push in two tabs and pull the top of the window out. The tabs wouldn’t quite retreat enough. I pushed and prodded and several times thought “I’d better be careful. I could easily hurt myself.” But I didn’t listen so well.

Holding the tab in I tugged hard, and, to my delight, out popped the window from its track. Huzzah! Unfortunately my forefinger was a little in the way and, near the tip, was pinched between two hard, irresistibly moving objects. I pulled my finger away in shock and looked at it in fascination. There was this thick, instant blister on it, white and swollen, and, as I watched it, blood started welling up out of the sides of it like I’d struck oil. Ooooooooo.

I decided this would be a good time to visit my wife. So I made my way across our bed, leaving a bit of myself behind. I dripped blood down the stairs which were very clean and white. The blood looked beautiful on the pure unsullied background of the stairs. I dripped blood across the living room and found my wife.

And I was home again.

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