Ever since I was little, my mom and grandpa's family have mailed over countless clothes. And you, you pick first, and after you choose, sometimes you even step on them. Your Huang family's kids always wear mine. Have I ever mentioned it to anyone? I haven't. I didn't think there was any need to fuss with you; I could wear patched-up clothes as long as you didn't go too far.
When I was in the first year of middle school, my mom, saving and scrimping with the leftover salary each month, bought me a watch, which ended up on your big brother's wrist, and the clothes you laughed at me in were bought for me. Did I ever tell anyone?
Your big brother got a job because your mom falsely claimed to be my mom. The unit took care of him as a martyr's family, recruiting him into the factory. Did I ever state the martyr was my dad and disagreed?
