First Nightmare

There was something different in the way Martha sat up in her crib, screaming, searching round her room, through her mop of hair, for something to give her comfort.
I went in the room, dark except for the light of her pink hedgehog lamp, and picked up my sobbing child.
She buried her head into my shoulder and her body into my chest, heart against heart.
Slowly, stillness returned as fears were overpowered and forgotten.
Big fists finally unclenched after hearing little lips sigh.

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