Arrow to the Eye

The crack in the ceiling opened up, a piece of wall or paint dropped down. I looked up because of a sound I heard. One to two seconds, was all it took for that piece from the ceiling to drop down and hit my eye like an arrow that had been waiting to be released.

I ran to the nearest sink, which was the kitchen sink. Filling my hands with water, trying to wash it out, it does nothing. Puckered my lips and tried to blow it out, it does nothing. I ran to the bathroom looking for a mirror, I have to get a closer look. I moved up to the mirror until my breath fogs it up. Using both my hands to spread my eye. Why is it the left one that always takes the direct hit?

As I’m looking for the piece of ceiling, maybe paint or drywall or brick wall, as I’m looking at the source of all my physical pain… I take my other fingers and try to take it out, it does nothing. I rummage through the drawers, trying to find tweezers, in the midst of my blurry vision, I find it, still, it does nothing.

The only thing that the water, the air from my puckered lips, the mirror, my fingers, my hands, the tweezers, the only thing they did was create the river of tears that might as well have been blood.

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