One day in her memory, under the escort of two patrol officers, she walked towards a home that was never hers. She stood at the entrance of the high-end community, peering through the waving shadows of the trees, towards the happy family that lived behind the window on the third floor.
She thought about a lot of things at that time, realizing that her life seemed to have been deficient from the very beginning compared to ordinary people.
The doodles of bears in her elementary school textbooks, the names carved on the wall inside the house where two people lived, the pair of little white shoes, washed threadbare, sitting on the window sill, all now started to take on a yellow hue from the beating of wind and rain in her memory.
And the mothballs, which she almost mistook for candy once, placed at the edge of her bed, were also filled with a kind of incomplete warmth.
