When I saw my

blood

on the

snow

I realized it was the first time I'd ever seen it. Blood stained snow.

Growing up in

Michigan

 winters I'd seen all kinds of other mixtures. Dog shit on snow. Motor oil on snow. Piss on snow. But I was amazed to have never seen blood on snow.

I remember busting a lip, getting a bloody nose, plenty of scraped knees and elbows. But I couldn't recall a single imagery of blood on snow. Did all such happen only in the other seasons? Was it because our parents bundled us up whenever we went out to play in the snow?

It took a moment to snap back. Get out of my head. My hand felt for where bullet had exited. I turned around and saw Derick standing there, the smoking gun in his hand.

"Not surprised are you?"

"Who else would it have been?"

"I guess you're right." he nodded his shoulders in a what can you do? manner. "Any last words?"

"Yes. Isn't the blood on snow beautiful?"

He gave a confused look before asking, "you okay, buddy?"

"Yeah. I've just... I've just never seen blood on snow. It's something really nice."