Chapter 3 - The Frame in the Doorway
The front door key turns in the lock.
The brass handle clicks open, bouncing back into place.
A man carrying a leather briefcase steps over the threshold, his dark tie loosened at the neck.
He stops.
His eyes fall on the white drops splashing off the edge of the high chair tray onto the floor.
"Sarah..."
The briefcase slips from his hand, thudding heavily against the rug.
"What did you do?"
The grandmother instantly drops to her knees beside the wooden coffee table.
She covers her red cheek with both trembling hands, her shoulders heaving with sudden, loud sobs.
"She attacked me!" the grandmother cries into her palms, her voice pitching up into a frail, breathless squeak.
"I just wanted to help with the baby!"
The mother stands in the middle of the room, her fingernails digging through the wet cotton of her baby's shirt.
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"Look at your son, Mark!" she yells, turning her torso so he can see the white liquid dripping off the infant's toes.
"Look at what she did!"
