The child screamed. Mom drove the car, with child and screams, and towels to staunch the flow from child’s bleeding lip.
Poor child had fallen from his bike. Poor Mom was distracted. Poor doctor had no idea what approached his door.
The child screamed. The doctor said, “Let’s stitch it.” Then Mom held her breath. She held child’s hand. She held to consciousness by a fading thread.
“It’ll be alright,” she said, repeating herself to the trusting child.
Then, “You’ll be alright,” said the doctor, the stitches all done.
“But where’s Mom?”
She’d waited bravely till now she fainted away.