Today's OneWord: Puncture

Sandy's lung had been adequately punctured, oxygen-rich blood poring from the crevice in her chest and emitting a thick, sick perfume into the air. The odor had drawn several people - and small critters - over to her, as I knelt down and took her hand.

"Honey," I whispered. She shushed me with the rest of her breath. The knife lay haphazardly at her hip.

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