blood?

- Mrittika Sarkar, XII

Sometimes I forget their names.

But not their faces. Never their faces.

I saw Carter today.

He was in my kitchen-

screaming for us to match forward. 

Then the bullet pierced his chest. 

It always does when I see him now.

The white kitchen tiles were slick with blood.

It smelled metallic.

Carter's blood.

 The blood he choked on.

No.

It was tea.

Spilling over the edge of the kettle.

But-

it can't be tea.

Tea doesn't smell like copper.