(Author’s Note – Very humid and warm where I live today, which does not help my headache. Only a short story today.)

Harsh and stinging chemicals scrubbed in. Scalding water steaming as it left the tap. Jagged brushes scraping across skin and probing under fingernails. All the different products and techniques she used had long since removed the physical traces of blood on her hand. Well, their blood.

Skin had come off from her efforts. Then it was her own blood that was dripping into the sink. In her eyes, it was that woman’s. That poor young woman forced into a life of hawking her body for cash. The anger had overcome her in seeing her partner dropping the girl back at her spot in the street.

She had read Macbeth. And she knew now, even as she scrubbed at her own blood that it would never be hers. She would never be clean of it. No abstergent would cleanse the taint from her soul and purify her of that sin.


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