When Marlene was born she slept in the old fashioned cradle that was carved by Louise's great grandfather from Kentucky. The cradle was in a corner of their bedroom, surrounded by pictures of animals that Earl had cut out of his national geographics. When Marlene was a baby it was hard for Louise not to touch her. The food and air that entered her small mouth was unremarkable and bland but when it left her in burps and poop and spit-up it held the strange delicate smell of the inside of a new body. To Louise, her baby was the most precious part of herself and it was hard to watch her sleeping, amputated from her body. It was hard for Louise to not press her finger tips or lips on the baby's head to feel the soft rush of warm blood underneath and the brief reconnection she constantly craved.