A man stands on a subway during rush hour on a Wednesday afternoon. He stares blankly at the passing walls and wires and thinks to himself. He thinks of his life and achievements, remembers random moments and contemplates what the future holds for him.
He does not notice that there is a cut on his right elbow. Blood slowly drips out and onto the subway floor, slightly spattering droplets on a woman's shoe.
"Excuse me sir, you're bleeding." The woman said as she pointed at his elbow.
"Oh, thanks." He said with a chuckle, "I hadn't noticed. Sorry if I got you." He smiled.
"That's alright, just get that looked after soon." She said with a smile.
"Will do." He said, with a smile and a nod, and then continued to look out the window. He switched arms to look in his pockets for something to wipe some of the blood away with. Nothing came up so he figured if he kept his hand in his pocket the blood would just trickle down his arm. Soon after the cut had been brought underneath his heart, the flow increased and a little sputter of blood spat out and onto the glasses of the woman sitting behind him.
"Excuse me!" She stood up and cried. "Cover that cut up! You're bleeding all over people! Jesus, you know this city seems to be getting worse by the day." She said as the train came to a stop and she walked off before the man had a chance to respond.
By this point in time everyone was looking at the man, most people had taken seats farther away and let newcomers sit near him and get bled on. The man knew he had at fifteen more stops to go, so to just tough it out and pretend like nothing ever happened, he sat down and waited for his station to be called.
He kept trying to think to himself what could have happened to him to get such a bloody wound and not even notice it, but couldn't remember. The more he thought of it the more intriguing the question became, and soon it consumed his thoughts entirely.
By the time he had arrived at his station he had lost too much blood to notice, still focusing on the cause for his current situation. The reason why it had to happen to him, and thought about the underlying factors that he should be so vengefully cursing or maybe praising for this current reality.
The crimson red seats of the subway did a good job at covering up and absorbing the excessive amount of blood he had lost on his journey home.
He thought deeper of what could have done this, who was responsible, he began thinking that it was someone close, that it must have been someone on the train. It must have been the woman, who first pointed it out. She didn't point to it at all! It was a dagger in her hand! She did this to me..she did this.. He thought with clenched fists and fiery eyes, sitting upright from adrenaline induced energy.
He looked around and saw more people than were actually on the train. Half were hallucinations of past passengers in burgundy vests smoking pipes and women with beehives and long cigarettes, soldiers and hippies smoking up in the back, laughing and coughing and listening to Deep Purple. And soon all that was in his head was Deep Purple, the monotonous riffs reverberating through his mind, and then he was there.
Amongst a crowd of people all cheering and chanting and singing along. He was in the middle of it all, raising the horns and still spilling blood. But no one seemed to notice. They were all so into the show that they didn't notice the man lie down either.
He laid up and saw the stars, the chanting and cheering began to fade as he focused more and more into the great beyond. It became very quiet, and everything started to go black.