Wash your hands and dry them off. Rip open the alcohol and sanitize the skin. Place the needle on the flesh, and POP. Dry off the first drop; it’s contaminated. Go down to the knuckle and press, apply pressure, milk it like an udder. Watch how the blood drips onto the paper. Go in close and see how it fans out in the grains. It’s thick, viscous, sweet, metallic. And as it dries, you can see the color change from fire to crimson. It envelops the entire page; it looks more and more violent. Wait! Something’s wrong. Something’s gone awry. And then, all of the sudden, it clots it stops platelets form and cause a wound, and then a scab, and then a scar, and then nothing. “It is healed” they said. And you’re left with nothing but a memory. You look fine but aren’t. You keep the paper tucked away. It’s your only link to the past.