Hold your hands in the sink. try and make sure the blood won't get on the floor. because I really hate cleaning blood. or maybe it's just the cleaning that I hate. I watch it slide down your fingers and splatter in the sink. red against white. and all I can think about is the mirror and how I'm going to have to explain it to them.
catch you staring at me. and you're smiling at me. turn the water on . to try and wash the blood off your hands. hear you wince from the pain but you say nothing and so I continue with my task. after a few minutes I finally turn the water off and wrap your hands in a towel. all most immediately the blood begans to soak through. I mention we should go to the hospital. you'll need stitches but you shake your head and tell me not to worry.
" Can I have an aspiring, though ?" .
Place them inside your mouth and hold the glass of water against your lips. find myself facinated by the water that's dripping down your chin. sit down on the couch and stare . I can tell you want to say something but you seem to be struggling with how to put it. finally your eyes rest on my face and you say in that soft voice of your's that I've come to love. " I promise to replace the mirror "
