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Thank you for being there when I was trying to disguise myself, pretending to be strong, pretending not to care. You clearly saw through me, but you didn't expose me. You pretended not to know and laughed with me, made a fuss with me.
Thank you for telling me when I felt tired, telling me that you knew I was tired, that you knew I was unhappy, not content, telling me that you would protect me.
The young boy who clung tightly to her hand when he was little, feverishly asking her, "Sister, am I going to die? If I die, will I be forever away from my sister?" This young man has truly grown up.
After returning home, Jane Sampson took a shower, applied light makeup, changed into a new set of clothes, and started organizing her things. She looked around at her suddenly empty house and sighed softly, silently.
She probably wouldn't be living here for more than two days now.
Wearing a hood, a mask, and sunglasses, Jane Sampson took her car key and left again.
