The Courtesy of Obliviousness

On the drive into work, I sneezed so hard I had a nose bleed and while I was pretty quick with the paper towel cork some of sanguine nasal fire hose got on my shirt.  I fully zipped up my winter coat despite it being a balmy 42°F and wore a lab coat for no reason until I’d have a chance to tackle it at lunch.

Through the whole morning no one said anything about the red trail down my shirt even through two rather lengthy conversations.  At lunch, I unbuttoned my shirt and began applying and wiping off hydrogen peroxide to lift the stains and over the course of 30 minutes or so with people walking in and out no one said a thing except for “hello” or “thanks for the brownies” (which I had brought in).

I always assumed blood on clothing was rather identifiable as it keeps a distinct red until it turns rusty brown. Had I traded brownies for my coworkers ignoring ominous blood stains?  Did they think that imposing would have stemmed the tide of pastries?  If I accidentally kill someone it’s good to know I could cover for it by hosting an omlette bar or a really nice cake.