Chapter 1 - The Cold Stream
A medium shot in a bright, modern living room set in natural daylight. An elderly woman with short, neat grey hair wearing a light blue button-down shirt stands over a baby in a white shirt sitting in a high chair. The baby is crying loudly. The woman holds a blue baby bottle tilted upside down directly above the baby's head. White milk flows continuously onto the baby's scalp and face. The background features clean white walls, a white sofa, and a wooden shelf with decorative items slightly out of focus. The camera is static, focusing tightly on the woman and the baby.
A thick white stream hits the child's scalp.
The baby gasps, tiny arms flailing against the plastic tray of the high chair.
Milk runs down past small, screwed-shut eyelids, pooling in the folds of a soft neck.
The plastic bottle tips further.
"Maybe now you'll stop wasting food."
The grandmother’s voice is dry, steady, like reading a grocery receipt.
A footstep squeaks on the polished floorboards.
A young woman in a white t-shirt stops dead in the archway.
Her eyes widen, her hands dropping a laundry basket full of folded baby clothes.
Small socks roll across the floorboards like scattered pebbles.
The baby lets out a high, ragged shriek.
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Milk dripping from his chin turns his white shirt completely translucent against his chest.
The young mother moves.
