Milk
“The vaporizer sent out a ribbon of steam and John’s shirt stuck to his chest. The baby’s face was red and he began to cough, dry and metallic, the sound like the crude devices inside toy dogs. Mary held him high up on her shoulder and patted his back in a firm spiral motion. He shivered along the whole length of his body; his eyeballs stood out and he spit up a stringy line of blood. John grabbed a towel.
The baby lay back on Mary’s shoulder, his head resting in the crook of her neck. His breat...hing was short, his stomach contracting as if choking for breath after a race. The vaporizer kicked on again, sending steam into the room, obscuring Mary’s feet and ankles. She pointed to the chairs by the bed. She seemed to want John to say something. Mac always insisted that a period of meditation was crucial before any emotional response. But with Mary premeditation was impossible. Her chest shook and drops of water fell from her eyes and he felt bewildered. The baby lay out on her shoulder like a piece of wet cloth.MoreLess
The baby lay back on Mary’s shoulder, his head resting in the crook of her neck. His breat...hing was short, his stomach contracting as if choking for breath after a race. The vaporizer kicked on again, sending steam into the room, obscuring Mary’s feet and ankles. She pointed to the chairs by the bed. She seemed to want John to say something. Mac always insisted that a period of meditation was crucial before any emotional response. But with Mary premeditation was impossible. Her chest shook and drops of water fell from her eyes and he felt bewildered. The baby lay out on her shoulder like a piece of wet cloth.MoreLess
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