Chapter 1 - THE GRAVITY OF CRUMBS
A close-up shot of a young blonde girl with tears streaming down her face, wearing a pastel tie-dye dress, reaching her hand out toward a basket of bread rolls on a dining table.
The background is a softly lit, warm domestic dining room with a wooden chair.
The camera is static, focusing on the girl's distressed expression with a shallow depth of field.
Lily’s fingernails were bitten down to the quick.
Her tiny index finger trembled just a fraction of an inch above the woven wicker basket.
The crust of the bread roll looked golden under the tungsten chandelier.
A single flake of sea salt rested on the top of the roll, catching the warm yellow light.
Her stomach let out a hollow, wet gurgle.
She pushed her hand forward, the pastel cotton of her sleeve shifting against her thin wrist.
The warmth radiating from the freshly baked dough brushed against her fingertips.
Before her skin could make contact with the crust, a shadow fell over the table.
A hand darted out from the edge of the frame.
The fingernails were painted a sharp, glossy maroon.
The palm struck the back of Lily’s small hand with the sharp crack of a breaking branch.
The force sent the child’s arm violently sideways.
Lily’s knuckles slammed into the polished mahogany edge of the dining table.
The woven basket tipped, sending a single, warm bread roll tumbling onto the floorboards.
Lily gasped, a sharp intake of air that hitched in the back of her throat.
She pulled her hand to her chest, cradling her stinging knuckles.
Her small face scrunched inward.
A hot tear broke free, slicing a clean path down her flushed cheek.
She pressed her good hand flat against her burning cheek, trying to hold the warmth inside.
The wooden floorboards seemed to vibrate beneath her bare feet.
"I was hungry."
Her voice was barely a whisper, muffled by her own palm.
May you like
The golden light of the dining room did not reach the cold corners of the floor where the bread now laid in the dust.
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