- Poppy -
CHICAGO, SATURDAY MORNING,
SEPTEMBER 30, 1871
Poppy sat up on her bare mattress and coughed. The stone walls and dirt floor of the room were closing in on her and she couldn’t stop gasping for breath.
“Shut up!” Ma Brennan yelled from her bed across the room. “You’re keepin’ me and my girls awake.”
“I … can’t … help … it.” Poppy’s mouth was dry and her throat sore. It was hard to speak, and each word was interrupted by spasms of coughs.
Ma got out of bed and stomped toward Poppy....