Round and round and round … he whispers.
James. Stop that, now. Look at mummy.
Mama, he slurs. Can you see them?
She touches his forehead. Burning.
His eyes roll and hands wave whimsical shapes in the air.
The mother worries. His fever has burned for three days.
There is no money for a doctor.
The boy’s inner world is completely joyful.
Horses from the uptown carousel they cannot afford, have come to him.
A kaleidoscope of colour, costume, prancing and dancing.
He laughs aloud. A crackling, wet laugh.
They love me, Mama.
She laughs through sobs.
Loud and lonely. [100 words]