The
most notable trait is the sizzling. It isn’t like hot oil on a stovetop or the
crackle of a fire. Instead it’s the reaction of chemicals like the old,
rotten-egg smelling chemistry classrooms from high school. The noise rises up
from the sink like it’s trying to eat away at the stain. The chemicals work for
me, not the other way around. Thankfully it doesn’t smell. At least, the
chemical doesn’t.
Next
the bubbles rise up. They’re like suds rising from the bath, but they aren’t a
child’s plaything. They come from within the stain to show its repulsive nature.
It purges the stain of its color and smell. The stain itself is obvious, and
not just to those looking for it. I shouldn’t have worn white. Unfortunately, I
can’t always help it, as I don’t know when this situation might occur. It doesn’t
smell rotten. I don’t gag at the scent. Instead it simply smells wrong. It’s an
unspeakable wrong.
Hydrogen
Peroxide has many uses, and not just for cold sores. The cold water washes away
the last remnants of the suds. When it no longer sizzles under the touch of
chemicals I know the stain is gone. My bottle is almost empty but I stack it
back in my medicine cabinet. Nothing is out of place. I have a date tonight,
after all. The last one was sweet, and that always makes it feel as though I
made a mistake. I have never made a mistake and I usually get over it soon
enough. I don a raven dress this time with devil high heels. The white dress
goes into the wash to joins suds of a different nature. A scarlet gown beckons,
but it is much easier to purge a dark color of a man’s lifeblood.
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