Father

In that bottle of milk Adelard could see his whole life. From birth to the present moment. In this milk, which was cold and had a strange odor, he saw himself. Here, was all his pride and desire to live. It was as if a part of his soul had sealed itself in this glass shell. Feeling hungry but happy for Armand, he fed him until the child became nervous and tried to push his hand away. "Now it's my turn to eat," Adelard said, looking lovingly into Armand's gray eyes. In that time, the bread had already managed to become cold and hard. But it was all that could soothe his stomach. Feeling the unpleasant taste and even mold, Adelard remembered with tears in his eyes the bread André had made. And yet he had never appreciated that delicious bread. It had all belonged to him. But now, he had sour bread that made his stomach hurt.