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| © Charles Klein |
When she gets up from the stretcher and walks a few steps, what seems like a huge amount of blood almost immediately splashes on the floor. She apologises while the nurses start cleaning the mess. It is embarrassing, but there isn't much she could have done about it. Even the ridiculously huge pad they gave her couldn't absorb that much liquid. Now her legs are covered in fresh blood, which will quickly dry up and stick on the thin paper bedsheet, and her shoes are ready for the bin.
But back in the apartment, she had only left an almost elegant streak along the staircase, Tom Thumb style. The drops were red, shiny, fresh, and beautiful, but possibly not as much as when Snow White's mother pricks her finger with a needle. She had noticed them in a very detached way, as if it wasn't her own blood dripping. At the same time, she had felt something snap inside, a bit like a trigger going off.
Later on, when all is done, she listens to this song and feels (just a bit) melancholic.