Walking briskly down wet pavement, she slipped and fell. As soon as the blood droplets started to form she looked away. Blood reminded her too much of her own mortality. But she forced herself to look—at the small cuts slanting this way and that, at the dirty asphalt rocks that knit their way into the flat part of her knee, and after awhile she forgot about the disgust, the fear, the anxiety.
She looked up and around to the grey sky and down to the wet pavement. She smiled that she was alive enough to breath, to bleed, to feel.
This reminds me of Lucia!
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