Chapter 2 - The Architecture of Comfort
The shadow holding the camera shifted slightly.
A dark woolen sleeve grazed the edge of the doorframe.
The phone lens dipped a fraction of an inch, then steadied.
The sound of shallow, adult breathing hummed behind the microphone.
"The baby was getting comfortable."
The mother’s voice was a low, hushed whisper.
It was the tone adults use when they are trying to defuse a bomb without cutting the wire.
Maya’s eyes narrowed.
The white satin bow on her left pigtail twitched as she snapped her head down to look at the bed.
She stared at the cream-colored fabric of her brother’s onesie.
She watched the tiny moons and stars stretch across his breathing stomach.
Her fluffy pink slippers scraped backward against the floorboards, leaving a faint scuff mark on the wax.
She crossed her arms over her chest.
The plastic zipper of her onesie clicked sharply against a small metal button.
"He stole my soft side."
She delivered the words flatly.
She didn't yell.
She simply stated a forensic fact of the crime scene.
She shifted her weight onto her right leg, popping her hip out in a miniature display of profound exhaustion.
The baby on the bed let out a tiny, breathy sigh.
He turned his bald head a fraction of an inch deeper into the white fluff.
The pillow absorbed his cheek, wrapping around his ear.
Maya’s jaw tightened.
She uncrossed her arms and let her hands drop heavily to her sides.
The pink fabric of her sleeves slapped against her thighs.
She stared at the deep indentation the baby’s head had made in the center of the cotton.
May you like
To her, it was a crater of betrayal.
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