Jenny
When I walked into my Grandpa's house I thought a bag of frozen blueberries melted on the floor, only for it to be revealed as a puddle of his own blood.
When I walked into my Grandpa's house I thought a bag of frozen blueberries melted on the floor, only for it to be revealed as a puddle of his own blood.
I've learned to deal with rejection letters, but it's just not right to open one and get a papercut.
I knew I had a problem when I licked the blood off my wrist then wondered how many calories I'd just consumed.
I felt pretty bad when my husband staggered into the kitchen from the den with a profusely bleeding cut in his forehead, collapsed on the floor and told me "I knew you wouldn't want me to bleed on the carpet."
It took me longer than it should have to realize that the blood staining the ground was not the man's, but my own and that he was holding me, not the other way around.
He'll never know how much time and effort goes into making homemade pierogis.
I never feared a shoe, but as I sit bleeding profusely from my nose, I began to.