The baby monkey cried with all the strength his tiny body could find. His stomach felt empty, tight, and painful, and instinct took over before his eyes were even fully open. He lifted his head and called out loudly, a desperate cry meant for only one soul in the world—his mother.
Each cry echoed with need. His small hands reached into the air, fingers curling and uncurling, as if hoping she would suddenly appear. Hunger made his body restless. He kicked weakly, rolled slightly, and cried again, louder this time, his voice trembling with panic. To him, milk was not just food. It was safety. It was warmth. It was love.
When no answer came right away, fear joined hunger. His cries turned sharper, more urgent. Tears filled his eyes as he searched the space around him, confused and frightened. Being hungry felt unbearable, but being hungry and alone felt terrifying. His tiny chest rose and fell quickly, breath uneven as he cried nonstop.
Minutes felt like forever. His body shook with effort, calling again and again, hoping his mom would hear him somewhere nearby. Every sound made him pause, listening carefully, heart racing with hope. But when silence returned, his cries broke into hoarse sobs.
Finally, caring hands lifted him gently. The warmth of a body close by made him cry harder at first, releasing all the fear he had been holding inside. The warm bottle touched his lips, and instinct responded immediately. He latched on eagerly, drinking fast, almost angrily, as if scolding the milk for coming late.
Slowly, the crying stopped. His body relaxed as warmth filled his belly. His breathing slowed. His eyes softened, blinking heavy with relief. One tiny hand rested against the bottle, the other against the chest holding him.
The world felt safe again.
This baby wasn’t being dramatic. He was simply doing what nature taught him to do—cry for his mother when he needed her most. And in that moment, milk became comfort, fear melted away, and hunger turned into peace, one swallow at a time.
