After all the debt collectors were driven away, Noel closed the window, blocking the storm outside.
"Thank you, young man." The grandma said, trembling.
"No need." Noel replied.
"I truly have thought too little." The grandma clutched Noel's hand, her entire body shaking: "How could I have believed that having money would be enough, and that this illness could be cured? I've pondered for so long what I should do, and now I finally understand — I shouldn't have been born. Without me, my son, my granddaughter wouldn't have been born and suffering like this."
"Don't think this way." Noel tightened his grip.
Half of the grandma's body was already drenched by the rain, hanging heavy and sodden on her. As Noel helped her wring it out, he saw the purplish-black marks on her arm, tendrils sprouting from her pores like sheep's wool.
For a moment, Noel blinked — had he seen a black sheep?
He applied more pressure with his hand, water droplets falling through his fingers onto the ground.
