Remains of the day ...

So small one could hardly see it: Yet, enough to fester. In the thumb of the left hand - a splinter from of teasal I think - possibly a briar. This morning, swollen and black headed. When I squeezed, puss - and the smallest of black splints topping the mixed red and grey. Even, although this could have been imagination, the smell of rottenness.
Even a day in heaven has its remains.