When I got home, I was greeted by the aroma of Grandma's dinner. Plates of milk cookies were scattered on the counter, but she pay them any attention. Instead, she took out a plate of red velvet cake and placed it on the table.
"Is that for me?" I reached out for a milk cookie, but Grandma stopped me.
"Young lady, this is not for you."
"Don't lie to me, Grandma. If it's not for me, then who is it for?"
"It's for other families who lost their loved ones in the war for this pack," Grandma told me sternly.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know." My smile froze as I looked at her, not knowing what to do.
Grandma's stern expression gradually softened. Finally, she handed me one of the milk cookies.
"Just one." Granny touched my head. "Betty, life is fragile, but it's even more precious because of its fragility."
