Jack Preger: A Short Story

Decent Essays
Jack Preger had never before experienced real pain, and his green eyes widened at the frightening redness of his own blood as it dripped on to the kitchen floor. His urgent cries mixed with the approaching rush of Annie O'Donnell's footsteps, and his world whirled as she lifted him to the wide white sink, where rushing cold water tugged at the tiny wound. Later, he surveyed the white bandage from her lap, and shed new tears at the memory of his injury. A handkerchief in a houseworked hand pinched his nostrils caringly, and between deep sobs, he blew, and sighed, and felt better. Annie’s soothing Irish voice rocked him on bony knees, and wax polish and soapy smells mingled with her usual reek of tobacco and beer, providing solace in
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