The sloping hole (extract from chapter 4)

At home, I tighten the tourniquet around my arm. My median cubital vein is always visible, which makes blood tests easy. What I like about needles and syringes are the sloping holes; they look menacing and remind me of Dad’s bamboo stick sword.

He used to keep it in the living room as decoration. When I was very young, I drew the sword from its sheath to survey the carbon steel blade. I remember feeling vehemently attracted to the tip of the sword, and like Princess Helen, I pricked my finger on the spindle, except I didn’t die; instead, I had an epiphany. I knew then what that sting in later years would feel like. It gave me a rough idea of what love might be, too. I was prepared for the pain as well as for the blood.

extract from Heart Like A Hole, PCD (c) 2007-2018

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