The anaesthetic hurt more than the cut. (Still, no more tears.) He swabbed the area with cotton wool and saline, rinsing the inside of the cut carefully and wiping away the fresh blood. He prepared the suture and I looked away as he inserted it into my skin. I watched while he fastened the one little knot, and thought it was appropriate I have only the one.
One little stitch all on its lonesome in the skin of my favourite finger.
“Now get outta here”, he said with a grin on his young face.
“Thanks Doc, have a good one”, I felt myself blush as I departed.
I walked back to my car, took myself home to bed, and felt the Panadine forte carry me off into a blissful exhausted slumber.
One little cry baby in her favourite place (bed, with toast and bread roll crumbs), with one little stitch in her favourite finger.