And maybe it does for a moment; you’re back in your house, on the couch, next to your mom, and then your brain says, Well, but wait.
What if your finger is infected? Why not just check? The cafeteria wasn’t exactly the most sanitary place to reopen that wound.
And then you were in the river. Now you’re nervous, because you’ve previously attended this exact rodeo on thousands of occasions,
and also because you want to choose the thoughts that are called yours.
The river was filthy, after all. Had you gotten some river water on your hand? It wouldn’t take much. Time to unwrap the Band-Aid.
You tell yourself that you were careful not to touch the water, but your self replies, But what if you touched something that touched the water,
and then you tell yourself that this wound is almost certainly not infected,
but the distance you’ve created with the almost gets filled by the thought, You need to check for infection;
just check it so we can calm down, and then fine, okay, you excuse yourself to the bathroom
and slip off the Band-Aid to discover that there isn’t blood, but there might be a bit of moisture on the bandage pad.
You hold the Band-Aid up to the yellow light in the bathroom, and yes, that definitely looks like moisture.
Could be sweat, of course, but also might be water from the river, or worse still seropurulent drainage, a sure sign of infection,
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