Middle.

When I was five years old, my family was almost fined for losing money.

The mother had planned to send her to the country, but she started crying from the moment she got in the car and heard her eyes red.

Then I was sent to the country as “no one wants to pay for it”.

One.

First rain in the fall, I got another call from my mother.

Recently, she has been very fond of calling me and has had to talk for a long time about her marriage and lamenting her brother’s work.

And the rain, which is tardy, is slashed in the face with a bit of coolness, which makes me happy after the night.

I listened hard to hear the noises of my mother, and I heard her say, “Do you have anything to say to your mother?” I’m sorry.

I’ve had a few seconds, and I’ve had another fall, and I’m sweating, and it’s cold.

“None. I’m sorry.

The phone was silent for a long time, and then a long sighs came: “You son is still divided with us.” I’m sorry.

I suddenly remembered a few years ago that my grandmother had my sister’s hand called my name while she was still, and that my mother stood behind me and pushed my spine, and I stepped forward and stood back.

Then I heard her saying to her relatives: “This is our son who shares with anyone.” I’m sorry.

I used to live in this place for six years, and I hated it.

When we were five years old, when our brother arrived, our family was almost punished for having given birth, and the mother had intended to send her to the country’s grandmother’s house, but the sister started crying when she got in the car, and the muddy road in the pit turned her crying like burps.

I couldn’t help but laugh in my mouth, but I didn’t know. That was the last time I laughed without heart or heart for years to come.

When she arrived at Grandma ‘ s house, she died and grabbed the door and refused to get out of the car. Her voice was strangling like a tan on her neck, and her crying became dumb and boring.

She heard her mother’s eyes red and then I was carried out of the car.

I was too young to understand what had happened, but only to realize that I had become a child that everyone hated.

Grandma’s house had two rooms, his aunts slept in the East Room, his cousin in the West Room, and I was lying alone in the bedroom on a slab, and crying every night.

But I was afraid to cry too loud, or I would be thrown outside the house by my grandmother, and sometimes my aunt was in a bad mood, and I hid in the blanket, and she would come out of the room and yell at me.

Grandma killed an old hen and made me and my cousin a bowl of chicken soup, and my cousin was going to race me who was going to eat fast. I finished. I had a half of him in the bowl. I had to look at him. I saw a chicken leg, two chicken wings and a chicken crotch in his bowl.

But I remember there were only a couple of woody chicken pecs and a few fleshless chicken skeletons in my bowl, and I had a bowl for Grandma’s chicken leg, and Grandma looked at me, “What kind of chicken leg is that?” I’m sorry.

My aunt bought a bag of popsicles for cousins, and there were a couple of little hockeys of different colours, and my cousin had only one of me, or the yellow one that I didn’t like the most, and I wanted to replace it, and the aunt over there heard me shout, “Don’t worry, it’s not wrong to eat for you, your parents don’t care about you.” I’m sorry.

Even my first-year-old cousin will be watching animated pictures as I get up, a remote control, a cold turn off the TV, and a mouthful of my face: “I won’t show you, this is my house, I want to see your home!” I’m sorry.

On one occasion, my cousin and I played hide and seek, and he grabbed me with his eyes blindfolded, he accidentally hit me on the wall, broke his head and threw his breath at me and kicked me in the face.

I was kicked in the ass, and then my aunt came over and said, “Let’s pull me apart, push me over the floor, rub my cousin’s wound with a heartache and scold me with a finger on my nose.”

“You’re not asking for money, are you? If you’re hurt, I’m not done with you! I’m sorry.

“He kicked me first. I’m sorry.

“I’ll kill you if I kick you.” “When your grandmother comes back, let her pack up and get the hell out of here, and we’ll have to help your parents raise their son.” I’m sorry.

I looked at her, I didn’t know if I was scared by her eyes or by her words, and I turned my mouth and cried silently.

That night, while everyone was asleep, I quietly pulled the bolt.

I don’t remember much of the way home, except the woods that were going through the village, seven to eight bending paths, and the moon was covered by a cloud of dark clouds that came out of the thick clouds, and the wind swayed through the top of the trees, swaying with a swirling, slow sand, like a desert sea.

I lost my way.

Then, when the father came, he put his big, dry palms on my face, and for a second I felt the whole world turning.

He looked at me and warned me, “You better be honest, and I’ll throw you into the pond and feed you to fish.” I’m sorry.

Later, cousin threw mud into my cup, threw the headbrush out of his mouth into my bowl, tore up the books I had written, and even, at night, squealed in my asleep ear, scaring me all night.

I’ve never resisted again, not once.

Two.

On the day my mother came to pick me up, Grandma cooked me an egg, and I looked at her with the eggs in my hands.

And Grandma cried out to him in a state of desolation: “Did you not have it in your own bowl?” Beware!

Turning her head, she turned her eyebrows at me: “You deserve it, you will not be able to keep it in your hands, nor will you be born to enjoy it.” I’m sorry.

The only thing she said to me was a lot of terrible things, and that was the only thing that accompanied me for many years, when I was sad, and when I was happy, she was too happy.

There was no shadow in the memory of the family, the small shed was turned into a bright three-bedroom, and we stood in a strange living room and heard the noise of the mother and sister in the bedroom.

“I don’t want to. I don’t like living in a room. I need privacy. I’m sorry.

“You don’t want it, you have three rooms at home. I’m sorry.

“Why did you bring her back if you didn’t have her room ready? I’m sorry.

“You son of a bitch, watch your dad come back and don’t beat you up. I’m sorry.

I didn’t know that six years later, I was a child who had been rejected and thought of it, my nose was sore and my tears fell off.

I was standing by and looking at my brother, and I looked up and said, “Did you miss home? I’m sorry.

I want to be honest with him and tell him that this is my house, but I can’t open my mouth.

In the evening, the mother made a large table, and the father came back from the shop early, was given a meal for reception and reunification and was finally destroyed by a chicken leg.

At the table, the mother smiled and put a chicken leg in my bowl, and the brother cried and ate the chicken leg, and the father put another chicken leg in his bowl.

At that point, a chopstick that had been thrown up on the table jumped in front of me and scared me of a vibe, a hand shaking, and fell on the ground with a chicken leg on the side of my mouth.

“What about me?” I want chicken legs too! I’m sorry.

“What kind of temper are you talking about? “A chicken has only two chicken legs, and next time Mom buys two chickens, will you eat chicken wings today?” I’m sorry.

“No, why would they eat chicken legs? I’m sorry.

Mother kept her voice down, and she said, “Do as you’re told, and be quiet. Your sister has just returned.” I’m sorry.

“If you like it or not, get out of here! “Father cast his bowls and burned his anger on his mother: “Look what you used to be, a little sister.” I’m sorry.

“Did I say I’m going to be a sister? You made me do this. I hate you. You’re partial! I’m sorry.

His father had stood up and his eyes were crucified to his sister because of his anger. Had his mother not stopped him, I thought he would have shot her in the face of my face.

My sister took advantage of the smoke to go back to her room, slamming the door, and the father was so angry that her mother had to go through his arm again, and she threw his hand over his head and broke the table a lot, and his brother was so scared and crying with cold chicken legs.

I watched the farce silently, and I fell down and picked up the chicken leg that fell to the ground, and I didn’t rub it in my mouth.

I know, I may not be able to eat chicken legs.

3

For a long time, I wonder why they brought me back because they don’t seem so welcome.

In my father’s eyes, I’m no different from the invisible man, who goes to the store every day before dawn, comes back in the middle of the night, comes home early and can play with his brother, and we can’t talk for a day.

Once, it was just me and him at the house, and at the time of the meal, he only cooked himself a bowl of noodles, completely forgetting me in the room.

And it seems that the mother prefers her sister, and she prefers to be close to her sister, and treats me like a guest, polite and distant.

Sister loves sweet sausages, she only buys broad sausages; she likes yellow, she buys us a little yellow dress; she forgets to bring her umbrella to school.

Every night, she cooks in the kitchen, and she grabs a melon, half by the kitchen door, and talks to her with a melon on the side, and the sweet laughter often comes into the room with the scent of food, makes me hungry and empty.

Sometimes my sister is not at home, and I’m standing in front of the kitchen like my sister, and she just laughs at me: “Are you hungry? The food is almost ready. I’m sorry.

As for her sister, she has always regarded me as the aggressor who robbed her of her resources, and she will not bully me like her cousin, but I can always see in her eyes the fear and hostility.

My father looked at me, and my mother packed me food a few times, and even a younger and ignorant brother said that he preferred a second sister, and would attract her grumpy.

Every year I take back my trophies, and my sister either cries and laughs or keeps herself in the room and refuses to eat.

And then the mother whispered to her: “It doesn’t matter if it’s bad, anyway, you’re the baby of Mom and Dad. I’m sorry.

Turn around and say to me, “Remember to put it away, and don’t let your sister see it, or she’ll be unhappy again.” I’m sorry.

When she was 17 years old, she met a knack-blower on the Internet, and she was so angry that her father locked her in the room, and she cried, “You now have a good girl, leave me alone, let me be free!” I’m sorry.

In the middle of the night, I went to the bathroom, I went to the door, I heard my mother’s sobbing voice, and she asked her father, “Did we ignore Sam so much that she was like this? I’m sorry.

And We lay silently back in our little bed, and were in the dark, and no one remembered, and tomorrow is my day in the middle.

Many years later, I heard a word from my psychiatrist, old Rona, that middle-child syndrome, which refers in general to children with a penis or middle-child, has caused some psychological problems because of the lack of a boss or the youngest child.

It’s like a rusty key, and it’s ripping off my heart’s tap.

That day, I cried in my face in the treatment room all afternoon, and since junior high school, teachers’ comments were not “smart, hard work, quiet” and, in high school, I was once subjected to a year-long school violence because of extreme isolation.

I tried to ask my father and my mother for help countless times, when his younger brother was in a state of youth rebellion, and he was absent, fighting, obsessed with games, revenge on the teacher, and every single one of them was the energy of the father, whose eyes were welded to death.

No one found any bruises on my arm, nor did they notice that my clothes were often dirty, much less that my eyes were getting darker.

To this day, I am constantly awakening from that terrible and suffocating nightmare and then hiding in the darkness.

The aggressors forced me to climb under their jaws, and I fled home mad, and my father stood at the door with his face burning, and I thought he was waiting for me, as if the shame and fear of his stomach had found a vent.

I was so anxious to run towards him, and I heard him say, “Teacher called and said your brother hasn’t been to school for two days, he’s out looking for it, and don’t come back.” I’m sorry.

I shook my head so hard, I said I didn’t want it, I went back to my room, my father looked at me like I was going to be skinned alive, and I was grateful to my mother for having taken me behind my back, but I couldn’t forget her tiny turd.

She said, “Forget it, it’s not like the kid’s having sex with us. I’m sorry.

4

Have you heard of the window effect?

If one house was broken and no one was going to fix it, it would take too long for others to be broken for no reason.

We all know that the word “separate” is the stone that broke the first window, but nobody thinks it’s easier to fix a glass than to change it.

All these years, I was alone and determined against this family, and I watched my father’s back, and my mother’s white hair came out, and my sister got and left, and after my brother graduated from college, I changed the job.

Likewise, they applied to which university I went to, the first time I was away from, what job I had to do, whether I had a boyfriend, and I was not tired and I didn’t care.

One year before I went back, the news began to jump from the night before the spring, when my sister said she was going to eat her mother’s egg dumplings and twigs, the younger brother told me to upgrade the wireless network at home, the mother asked her husband and daughter what she wanted to eat, and the father sometimes tans some of the seafood he had bought.

I set up a set of messages, but I didn’t miss any of them, and I’d light every picture, and I’d light every sound.

The landlord’s old lady at the door knocked on my door, and she put a dumpling in my hand, laughing at me, “Eat it while it’s hot, it’s hard for young people to work hard. I’m sorry.

I laughed at her, and I closed the door, and I let my tears wipe out the hot dumplings.

And as soon as it was 12, my father called me, and he was obviously drunk and drunk, and asked me, “Did you not earn money and pay off?” What, you can’t afford a ticket, you can’t afford a few cents? I’m sorry.

At the end, he added another sentence: “Or do you think we’re not worth it? I’m sorry.

Later, when I refused to go back to the country to visit her seriously ill grandmother, he asked her the same thing.

I think it’s funny, just as my aunt asked me to help her get cousin out of jail.

I remember the aunt with her head high, holding on to my sleeves like the last straw, crying to me, saying, ‘Are you not in Qatar?’ Your brother can only count on you now. Please, help your brother. He hasn’t married yet. I’m sorry.

I looked at her in cold blood, and I never thought a man’s tears would be so annoying: “Did the man who was crushed into a vegetable marry his wife?” I’m sorry.

“It’s not all your brother’s fault. At this point, she called out to protect her precious son: “That man has bled your teeth!” I say their company has a responsibility, knowing that the two men will not fight and that they will work together! I’m sorry.

“Yeah, everybody’s wrong. Your baby boy’s innocent? * I stood up and filmed the sleeves of the clothes she grabbed, and I hated them all * “From the first time your precious son bullied me, you should have thought that there would be a day when both good and evil would be the same, and a small thing would be the same, and a small evil would cause a great evil, and all would suffer.” I’m sorry.

I don’t know how long your cousin’s final sentence was, but she said his name in three years’ time when she was gone, and she didn’t see the last face, and she didn’t know it was her favorite grandkid who ended up carrying her pelt.

And that little granddaughter, the last thing she’s ever hated, didn’t want to come near her when her life was about to burn. I don’t want to know.

All I know is that I didn’t forgive, and I didn’t want to forgive.

“Long, long”? The mother’s voice pulled me back from the long past through an invisible telephone line: “Are you listening? I’m sorry.

“Well, yes.

“Why don’t you take a time and come back? You haven’t been back for four years. “If you don’t come back, your father will never remember you.

“When did he remember me? “Come on, I’ll make more money next month.” I’m sorry.

“You think I’m asking you for money? Is there only money left between you and Mom and Dad? I’m sorry.

I was standing on the sidewalk, watching the green light flashing across the street, and the red light was like the alarm in my heart, and it was buzzing and my head was sore.

“Then what? Did you give me anything else?”

I looked up at the night sky, and the rain seemed to have gone a little further, and I hung up the phone and accelerated my feet.

I should go home and go home alone.

5

In the corner of the living room, as always, there was a warm orange nightlight, but in this house there was no one waiting for me.

Song Ying has moved away for two months, emptying all his personal belongings and leaving behind countless traces that belong to both of us.

He installed the Sensor Sensor’s light, he received the air fryer in the kitchen at the annual conference last year. The projection in the living room was the one he wanted to buy, and the Bonnie Rabbit doll on the window was my first birthday present.

I changed my shoes to wash my hands in the bathroom, and it’s hot, and the crack in the mirror is still visible.

He said, “What are you afraid of? Is it that hard to take me to your parents? Can’t I do that? I’m sorry.

And I looked in his angry and exhausted eyes, and a heart ran around as if it had been lit, and I found that I could not speak.

What should I tell him? No, it’s not you, it’s me. It’s my dry love.

What should I tell him? Unlike your home, my parents will not shake you out at the table, like your parents, from childhood to greatness, and they will only entertain you in a cold manner, making you feel unpopular.

What am I gonna tell him? Shh, whisper. Don’t make our happiness so loud. No one will bless us.

On the day Song Ying moved, I went to see Roh, a 30-year-old psychiatrist, and I asked him to answer me as a man: “Is that what a man said about breaking up is a considered, unloved, irretrievable? I’m sorry.

He did not answer my question, but asked me quietly, “Do you want to save it?” I’m sorry.

I looked at him and I couldn’t help myself.

And he said, “Are you afraid to make it right?” I’m sorry.

It’s hard for me to be honest, and I’m afraid, because I don’t think he really likes me very much, because he doesn’t watch my favorite movies with me, he doesn’t like my taste, he doesn’t want to buy my favorite cake around two blocks, and I grind his foot and he pulls me around his dog.

I didn’t care enough, and my birthday presents were bought by hand, and I didn’t know for three years that my favorite flower was embroidery, and most importantly, he didn’t take me seriously, he fought loudly every time, and he wouldn’t come to me right away.

After that, I cried again in my face.

And when he sat before me in peace, and put the tissue box in my presence, sweetly, so that when I cried enough, he opened his mouth: “You seem more willing to testify that others do not love you. I’m sorry.

“But love won’t leave me, will it? I’m sorry.

He laughed: “Do you think he does not love you? Are you feeling better in your heart? I’m sorry.

I shook my head and cried again.

I thought as long as I thought Song Yon didn’t love me, his departure was none of my business.

I will cease to love him, and I will not regret it for countless nights.

Well, he’ll never know that he’s looking like a self-sufficient, cute girl, actually like a stray dog nobody wants.

But the more I hated myself, the more weak and vanity I had hidden under my new body.

And the old Loong exclaimed, and he concluded by exhorting me: “Suh Yong, try to make others love you.” I’m sorry.

Six.

It was already late at night when the plane arrived at the airport, and I wanted to call a car and see my sister turn the crowd towards me.

For four or five years, she’s had a lot of obnoxious clothes, a khaki-coloured knitting knitted sweater, a low-down pelvis, and a little bit of ludicrous smell on her.

“Mom doesn’t worry, I have to. She was a bit uncomfortable to explain.

I was a bit uncomfortable when she remarried, and I had a big fight with her. Her current husband was a Singaporean Chinese, 18 years old, a smart businessman, bought her a high-fixed wedding dress, a big dove diamond ring, and she was the only one who had immigration procedures.

I remember when I didn’t pick up the bridesmaid’s dress that she handed over, but asked her about Ray, what about her daughter and her ex-husband?

“She has a father and a father.” I’m sorry.

“You know how unbelieving her own father is, do you believe that if you go back, he can turn his head and throw lye into the country, and you can jump out of the fire, and push your own daughter in, and you’re the mother?” I’m sorry.

“What can I do? Van doesn’t like children. He doesn’t want his own son! She was still as anxious as she had been, with three or two words up her throat: “Does she deserve to die?” I’m only 28 years old, and I’m so young. Don’t I have the right to be happy? I’m sorry.

“You have, but you can’t let others suffer for your own happiness. You are selfish! I’m sorry.

“Someone else? * She smiled, and her mouth was sarcastic: * This other person you’re talking about is you.* Yeah, I took the opportunity to stay with Mom and Dad and the attention and affection from you, but I don’t feel sorry for you, because I earned it on my own! I’m sorry.

“What about you? Do you dare? You can’t even pick up the last piece of red meat on the plate, you can’t even tell your mother that you don’t like yellow dress, and even when you’re in high school, you can’t give it back or say it. I’m sorry.

“And even now that you’ve grown up, you’re the best of our brothers, so what? Look in the mirror, look at yourself. Are you yourself? Can you see yourself?”

Every time I saw you, I was so glad that you were the one who was sent to the country, not me. I’m sorry.

I was reminded that the last time she looked at me and yelled at me, she pulled me out of the violence in the school, the day she cleaned up the aggressors and pulled my bruised arms.

When she arrived at the door, she suddenly took a step and threw away my hand hard: “Swee Yong, are you dumb? Don’t you cry? I’m sorry.

I felt nothing but pain in my heart, and I couldn’t say it: “Did you ever think that Rey would become the second me?” I’m sorry.

And I saw the twilight of tears twirling through her eye, and her eyes were full of broken struggles, and she turned around.

“But I don’t want to be someone like you, not in my life. I’m sorry.

It’s like a needle, a needle sewn to my heart, and a thin, thick bloodline leaks through the needle’s feet, and it’s hard to tell the point.

I’m so sorry that I’ve never done anything I’ve missed, but I’ve lived like someone else.

“I’m divorced again. I’m sorry.

The street light outside the window was attached to a line, and her face was sometimes reflected on glass, vague and clear.

And then she said, “Ray is with me now. I’m sorry.

7

Mother insisted on making me a bowl of noodles, and she said to get in the dumplings and get out of the front.

My sister took off her coat, took up her sleeves, and smiled and took out a bag of pickles from the fridge: “Mom gave you long noodles to come back, to be reunited. I’m sorry.

She washes a small basket of vegetables for her mother and stuffs the rest of them in the fridge without leaving, so she leans on the refrigerator door, and a tower goes up and talks to her mother.

Scattered, high and low, mixed with the cuddles, the hot oils, so much as to synthesize a beautiful sound.

I sat on the couch and brushed my circle of friends, and the time was back more than a decade ago. Why is there something in this world that is not what it is, while there is something that never changes?

And in the shadow of the light, We saw a little figure, barefoot, and in a thin pyjamas, standing at the door of my sister’s room, and looking at me in silence.

It is a large, beautiful eye, like a black rock, but it is as though it were hidden in a secret plume, silent and empty.

I can’t see well, but I’m familiar.

“Ray, did Mom wake you? My sister saw the image, and she went in haste, and she took a microbrow, and said, “Why do you not wear shoes? It’s getting cold…”

When the voice was still missing, the lace suddenly got scared and went back to the room, half-dried, and the sister picked up a bed sheet that was wet by something.

Subsequently, there was a sharp cry from Rey’s voice in the room, which was particularly sudden in this quiet late night.

I instinctively ran into it, and I only saw the lace holding its head, and I had the little body in one piece, trying to hide under the table.

Her sister reached out and tried to pull her out, but she just met her, like a little animal trapped in a cage, trying to run around and crashing over the walls.

I heard the sound of a bang and my heart was breaking.

“You leave her alone, she’ll get hurt! I went over there and pulled the two men apart, asking, “What have you done?” Can’t you see she’s scared?”

“She I just changed her wet sheets. I’m sorry.

Some of her unspoken and disheartening eyes still fall on the laces beneath the table, and the sound reveals a ulterior anxiety of being a parent: “It’s ten years old and wet the bed.” I’m sorry.

“Isn’t it normal for a child to wet his bed? If you wash, why do you make so much noise in the middle of the night? * I’m so angry and I can’t help but notice * “She’s your daughter. Is it hard to accommodate her? I’m sorry.

“Inclusion”? Yes, the sheets can be washed tomorrow. She’s my daughter. I can help her with the rest of her life. I’m sorry.

I heard something wrong, but I just wanted to ask you a few questions. My mother came in a hurry, she lifted up her apron to wipe her hands, and the burning eyes swept around the house.

Then she looked at me and stood by her sister, as she had always been.

“Let’s go out with Mom and eat while it’s hot. She said, “Don’t argue with your sister, she’s not easy…”

This sentence is like a nail falling from the sky, precisely falling on my feet, and pain keeps me straight to the ground.

It’s really sad. Why is it that I’ve never been the one chosen?

“Yes, it’s not easy for single mothers, it’s not easy for unemployed young people, since you only care for your oldest daughter and little son, and why are you calling me back? How did you do that? Don’t you think it’s cruel? I’m sorry.

I was very tired when I waved my mother’s hand over my arm, turned back to the living room and mentioned the luggage that had not yet arrived.

My mother cried so badly, my sister came after me, and I still felt I shouldn’t have come back.

Old Lorraine!

“What’s all this noise? “A thick, low-strike stabbing all the tiny sounds in this house, and I’m intuitively stuck.”

He is much leaner than he remembers, and his back is not as straight as it was before, except for those eyes, which are full of eyes, and my cheeks are a little numb.

He came to me step by step at a pace that was no longer light, and I counted my already broken heart beats.

Close, close, closer…

When the sound of the dust fell, I heard it. He wiped my shoulder without an expression, and turned towards my sister, and did not look at me.

“Why didn’t you call me? It’s almost dawn, we’ll have to save the money to pick up the country! I’m sorry.

The eyes of my mother and sister are a little red with my misperceptions.

8

“You must try to make people love you. The silks cannot shine in the sun, and only butterflies can feel warm.” I’m sorry.

I’ve been thinking, if I cut myself up one day, which one of them would jump out for me?

I’m gonna stand there crying my father’s slap on my face so far, and I just wanted to go home.

Or will you cry to your mother, why can’t you be as close to me as your sister?

Why don’t you just love me?

At this moment, however, all the pompous people who used to dance with their teeth were just looking at me, and I cried.

So I looked up to my mother, “Can you hold me?” It’s not easy for me either. I’m not doing well. I’m sorry.

“Mom knows, Mom knows. * She can’t swallow anything else * * And then hugged me. *

She really knows that every two months, every late night, my wi-fi paces are soaring, that night runs are the only way I’m going to vent.

I’ve been calling a lot of people lately, and she asked me again and again.

After all these years, we’re like this stiff hug, and we’re only gonna get close to each other in the most awkward positions.

“Song Yong wants me, it’s only two months. He’s getting married. He’s not coming back! I’m sorry.

I remember crying for a long time, and before I fell asleep, I heard her whispering, “Just come back.” I’m sorry.

I haven’t really been back in a long time, and I don’t know which cupboard I put in, and I can’t open half the old TV in the house, and I can’t keep the shower warm.

Every night, I watched my sister sleep with her father suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, pacify the lye with child autism and take two depressive pills with a warm, white water.

Throughout her face, there was an aberration of normality and peace.

She smiled and explained to me: “Mom was afraid that you would be worried, so she said that it was not easy for you to be out there alone. I’m sorry.

The shop where the father had been keeping for most of his life was still in place, and he was now replaced by a brother.

I was surprised that my brother, who hasn’t been qualified since he was a kid, spent three days fishing and two days in the sun, finally took root in this little shop.

I asked him if it wasn’t the strange smell of a North-South mix? He scratched his neck and showed a little shame: “But Dad likes it. I’m sorry.

Sometimes I go to the store, and my father always lies in the chair in front of the shop, shaking at the sun, and it’s only here that he won’t go anywhere.

He still often doesn’t recognize me, sometimes he treats me like he buys mushrooms and fishballs, sometimes thinks I’m his brother’s girlfriend, and once he prepared me a red bag.

And my mother put a red bag over me, a thin layer, with only one old deposit.

She said, “The day you left your home to report to school, your father and I stayed up all night. I said that you would stay there only to work, get married and have children. Your father comforted me that you were young and wise, and you would not lose anything, so long as you were happy. I’m sorry.

“But the next day, before dawn, he rose up and said that you were so far away that he had to save you some dowry. I’m sorry.

And finally, she looked at me very carefully, looking at me: “We were not the first parents, but we were never the mothers and fathers of three children, and we wanted to be the mothers and fathers of every child, but when we were too young to be able to help out, we knew that we owed you the most, and you often let us down, but you have to believe that we never loved you. I’m sorry.

9

A week later, after the end of the annual leave, my sister took Rey to the airport.

A large plant in the corner aroused the interest of Rey, and most of the time she looked more like a quiet, good boy and told her not to go too far. She stood there and looked at the green in front of her for so long.

“I always knew I was a selfish child and sometimes I felt guilty, you know? Since I have had children, it has become clear that every mother would like to see her child be more selfish. I’m sorry.

“It is not that children who cry have milk, but sometimes they cry and their parents know that they are hungry. I’m sorry.

Her eyes were filled with compassion and tenderness, but, unfortunately, Rey never looked back at her.

“The city’s Concubine Hospital is famous. When I get back to arrange it, you’ll bring Ray and I’ll be fine. I’m sorry.

Finally, it is only when we stand at a crowded airport and say goodbye, like countless close relatives, on a plane that I remember, this is the first time that we have hugged.

The plane flew at high altitude, and the land from which I had fled and looked back remained invisible.

I still haven’t stayed, and the higher I fly, the higher I penetrate the clouds, I look out of the window as if I could touch the white clouds, and I don’t worry that a single wind will blow them away, because far away, I will end up in the same blue sky.

And I’m still going on and on, and sometimes I’m going on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on, and I’m going on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on, and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on and and on and on and and on and on and and on and and on and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and

After all, long years of time and a place to live, the soul ceases to wander.

(concluded full text)

Author: Call me Quietly Quietly Document Number: YXX10mbaDleiRexeNZv8hQ9

I don’t know.

Keep your eyes on the road.