It hurts...
The man stood up with difficulty, wiping the blood from his lips.
The metallic taste lingered, reminding him every second of what had just happened.
What a mess... so pathetic...
He began walking down the street under the gaze of passersby, whose looks offered no comfort whatsoever.
Some looked at him with contempt, others with indifference... but none of them stopped.
What can a man like me do after my parents' death? I shut myself away to play. What do they know about me? Don't I suffer? Do I not care about my parents' deaths?
Thoughts jostled one another, disorderly and unfiltered.
Memories of his childhood flashed through his mind as he ate dinner with them: his father's laughter, who wore a wig in public to hide his baldness.
Small details… but impossible to forget.
Now, what can a 25-year-old homeless man—who's been kicked out onto the street by his aunt and uncle—possibly do? How is he supposed to make a living?
The question had no answer.
