They do their best to avoid seeing those stains. It is as if they fear they might come to life. They might leap from my hands to their face. Sucking red stains. Devouring bloody holes...

But I am grateful for their being here at all. It makes me feel as though I am doing something good, for once. However secondary they think I am to the effort, I am doing something real and true, here.

For once I am more than just my hands.