Michael felt uneasy and kept following Wendy from an appropriate distance. Seeing Wendy driving back home, Michael was thoroughly relieved. Then he sat in the car, opened the window, took out a cigarette, lit it, and clamped it in his hand.
Michael rarely smoked.
The cigarettes in his car were almost moldy. He held the cigarette in his hand without smoking it. He just lit it and quietly watched the fireworks leaping at his fingertips.
The cigarette butt kept burning until it burned Michael's finger before he came back to his senses.
Putting out the cigarette butt, Michael looked up at the light in Wendy's room.
Inside it lived his loved one as well as his child. It was just that at this moment, he did not deserve to go upstairs. All he could do was quietly look from here at their lights.
....
Wendy was a little lost.
