Noises

One of the only noises that lingered was the methodical *tip tip tip* of every drop of the blood that fell, staining the pale patterns of linoleum. His eyes were open fully and breath faintly whispered from the gash through his throat as he slowly… lost… consciousness… Drip upon steady drip, the pool sprawled across the floor, serving as a crimson mirror reflecting the scene of which he had been made part of. Wearing a necktie of red from the gush just after the incision, and streams running from neck to shoulder to arm to wrist to hand to fingertips, the seemingly extraneous veins emptied upon the bathroom floor.