The Wistful Voyage
You are bleeding on the linoleum, and the stain is the color of dried blood, which is to say, it is not red at all but a rusty, brownish smear that looks less like life and more like the residue of something long dead, something that has been left to rot in the corner of a room no one cares about anymore. I am looking at it, I am kneeling there with my hands pressed flat against the cold,...
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