Blood Origin

I woke up and it was there. Just there. The stain, a circle, nearly perfect, setting in my white satin pillowcase. Dry, and red, and blood.

I checked my nose in the mirror. Nothing. No crust of blood down my upper lip. No residue on the inside. I blew my nose. Nothing still. I poked and I prodded. I used cotton swabs, tissue paper, towels and the like. I did everything I could to find the source, the only origin.

I hit myself with a book and ran into the wall. I shoved my index finger in the back. I jostled and I scraped. That got it bleeding.