"I can do this," Jimmy thought as he ran across the field. It was early Sunday morning; the light was pale and there was still dew on the grass. At 5 A.M., Mom had woken up in a cold sweat groaning and swiping at imaginary demons in her bedroom.
"Go get Aunt Jane," Dad had said. Jimmy had never seen his hands shake or heard his voice crack.
After the first mile, a stitch built in Jimmy's side. He was breathing heavy. Another mile ahead was Aunt Jane's tiny cabin. She lived alone and had a garden of herbs. When she dried them, they hung all over her kitchen. It smelled like soap and rotten stew. Jimmy could smell it as he ran.
His heart thumped in his chest, much like Jane's did when Mom was born. She was younger and Jane had always been close to her. Jimmy could see her house now, just five hundred yards away. He was weak, though.
He didn't make it. Jane tried her herbs on the odd boy she found.