Hetty stared at her hands splayed on her lap, covered in blood. She studied the blood’s different life stages—wet, sticky, dry, flaky—and blew warm breath onto her raised hand. Minute particles of blood floated into the air.
A life filled with living creates many memories, sometimes not so readily remembered, at least not all that accurately. When I was a small child, I started a journal, my attempt at anchoring my life, though I know I wouldn't have called it that then.