Jasmine Yale pushed Little Clementine away, and Little Clementine in the stroller was quite restless, her big eyes constantly watching Sylvan Cheney, moving around incessantly in the stroller.
Jasmine Yale did not take Sylvan Cheney's lollipop.
Lollipops, these things, are poisonous.
She brushed past Sylvan Cheney like a stranger, passing by without a backward glance.
The gentle afterglow fell on her face, her expression so gentle and serene.
Little Clementine kept moving, and halfway, finally burst out crying, a piercing wail.
Jasmine Yale felt this daughter was like a little white-eyed wolf, utterly helpless inside.
However, once a child cries it out, everything is fine, joyful and happy as usual tomorrow.
A child's world is the purest, void of disputes over interests, unhappiness comes swiftly and leaves just as quickly, just like her childhood.
The sunset's light stretched Sylvan Cheney's silhouette long, his tall shadow fell on the ground, lonely and solitary.
