cover
Inside a brightly lit classroom at midday, Abby sits at her wooden desk, finger touching her itchy nose and eyes wide. Tiny green cartoon germs cling to her fingertip beside scattered crayons.
Abby, eight, with medium brown hair, loved playing at school. Her nose felt itchy. "Itchy!" she said, and picked it. Tiny germs rode in on her finger. They began their journey. Abby didn't notice.
In a softly lit bathroom at evening, Abby leans over the porcelain sink, lathering soap on both hands beneath running water. A mirror reflects her tired face as a wet cough escapes her arm-crooked elbow.
Later, Abby felt odd. Her head ached, and she coughed. "Oh no, I don't feel good," she whispered. Each cough pushed germs out. She washed her hands carefully. "No more nose picking," she promised.
Under bright clinic lights, Dr. Kim stands beside the examination table, smiling while holding a fresh tissue. Abby blows her nose into another tissue, with a thermometer and stethoscope resting nearby.
At the clinic, Dr. Kim smiled. She listened, checked temperature, and said, "Rest, fluids, tissues." "Blow, then toss," Dr. Kim showed. Abby blew her nose.
In the sunny kitchen afternoon, Abby sings at the sink, scrubbing her foamy hands to a cheerful rhythm. A colorful poster reading 'Scrub, Scrub' hangs on the tiled wall beside drying dishware.
Back home, Abby sang a hand-washing song. "Scrub, scrub," she laughed. "Hands stay out of my eyes, nose, ears, and mouth!" She kept them clean and dry. Soon, she felt better. Playtime returned.
--:--
--:--
0/4