It almost reminded me of a can of whipped cream, except this sound was thicker, as if the whipped cream had been sitting in the back of the fridge for going on three months now. Thick and choppy and not really sliding down the nozzle as smoothly as you would have liked.
That was the sound, and as I heard it I couldn't help but glance to my left where Joey sat, head tilted back as if he were trying to keep his brains from running out through his nose and mouth. As he did so he continued to sniff, his little nose twitching.
I had seen Joey with a cold before. It started off with a runny nose, mucus dribbling from his nose and down past his lips - where occasionally he would breathe in heavily and inhale the beige bodily fluid - past his chin and onto his shirt where later it would crust up so badly that the shirt was labeled 'un-washable'.
Next came the days when he would try to blow his nose, but he would do it wrong, and what was meant to wind up on the handkerchief would instead become the latest part of Mom's home decorating; a little yellow to go with that pale green wall.
Over the next couple of days the snot would begin to coagulate in his nose, so that he was constantly sniffling heavily to try and keep it from bunching up inside his nostrils. I expected he had reached this point as he continued to heave backward on the mucus.
