Whole or Hole

Her hand shook so hard she wasn't sure she could follow the directions. Slowly she slid it down, gently probing the rough denim. She squeezed her eyes shut and grunted when she felt the sticky wetness of her own blood. Tears flowed from under her closed lashes. Even more slowly her hand continued moving until she'd found where the bullet had entered.

"I've found it," she said into the phone, her voice cracking.

"Good job Jeanie," a strange voice echoed back at her. "I need you to put pressure on it. Make sure your hand is directly over the hole. Help is on the way."

Desperate to see her son again, she did as she was told. She pushed down and felt the blood seep between her fingers. Her voice cried out in the dark night, the pain almost more than she could bare. Squeezing her eyes tighter, she thought of her son sleeping in his crib. She saw his chest rising and falling, a steady rhythm that she imitated.

"Jeanie, your doing great. Just another minute or two. Jeanie? Are you still with me?" The voice sounded alarmed.

Jeanie took a deep breath and responded, "I'm here. I'm here."

"Good. I'm going to stay on the line with you, but is there anything else I can do?"

She was about to say no whens he thought of her son again. "Yes!" she called out. "Can you call my husband and tell him to buy a gallon of whole milk for Jo-jo?"

*** One Minute Writer ***