Chapter 5 - The Terms of Surrender
The shadow in the doorway shifted again.
The camera lowered just a fraction, matching Maya's downward gaze.
"Can you share it?"
The mother’s voice didn't command.
It asked.
It placed the heavy, complicated burden of diplomacy squarely onto the shoulders of a three-year-old.
Maya froze.
Her hands stopped twisting the pink fabric of her onesie.
She slowly released her grip, letting the material fall back against her legs.
She tilted her head to the right.
The white satin bow brushed against her earlobe.
She stared at the massive white pillow.
She visually measured the surface area.
She calculated the exact volume occupied by the baby’s small body.
She looked at the empty expanse of white fluff remaining on the left side of the baby's head.
Her eyes darted back and forth.
The gears of child logic ground together, seeking a mathematical equation for fairness in an unfair world.
She sighed.
It wasn't a sad sigh.
It was the heavy, resigned exhale of a middle manager accepting a terrible corporate merger.
She rolled her shoulders back.
Her rosy cheeks lost some of their indignant flush.
She turned her face perfectly square to the camera lens.
May you like
She looked directly into the shadow of her mother.
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