The newborn baby monkey lay helplessly on the cold floor, her tiny body trembling with weakness.
Soft moans escaped her mouth, not loud enough to call for help, but heavy with pain and fear.
Her eyes were still swollen from birth, glossy with tears that slowly rolled down her fragile face.
Each breath looked like a struggle, her small chest rising unevenly as she cried in exhaustion.
She tried to move, but her limbs were too weak to push her body closer to warmth.
The floor felt hard, unfamiliar, and cruel against her delicate skin.
She did not understand why she was alone, only that something felt terribly wrong.
Her cries were no longer sharp; they were broken, fading, almost whispered.
Hunger twisted inside her tiny belly, making her whimper again and again.
She searched blindly for her mother’s scent, turning her head weakly side to side.
No comforting fur, no gentle heartbeat, no warm milk came to her.
Tears continued to fall, soaking the floor beneath her tiny cheek.
Every sound she made felt like a final plea for love.
Her body shivered, not just from cold, but from fear of being forgotten.
Time felt endless for someone so small and powerless.
Her cries slowly became softer, turning into quiet moans filled with sadness.
Even in her weakness, she tried to survive.
Her fingers curled tightly, as if holding onto hope itself.
At last, a shadow appeared nearby, bringing movement and warmth.
The newborn lifted her head slightly, sensing life close to her.
Her eyes blinked slowly, still wet with tears.
She released one final cry, fragile but full of need.
That sound carried pain, hunger, and love all together.
In that moment, her suffering was finally seen.
The tiny newborn was not alone anymore, only waiting to be saved.
