The cheap clock face hanging above the sofa ticked and tocked, each movement of the second hand seemingly influencing Gao Ming's heartbeat.
A middle-aged woman entered the kitchen, the smell of cooking wafted through the house, reminiscent of the scent in the family building Gao Ming used to smell when he came home from elementary school at noon.
With his stomach growling, Gao Ming stood in the center of the living room, carefully examining every corner of the home.
The uneven wooden dining table stood against the wall, the leg in the front left propped up by old newspapers, covered with a tablecloth patterned with flowers.
Candies, sunflower seeds, and apples were placed on the tablecloth as if to welcome guests.
The chubby kid, holding a soda bottle, ran to the table, sneakily grabbed a piece of candy, and put it in his mouth. Smacking his lips with lingering taste, he eyed the apples.
"Very ordinary, even the wrappers look no different from those in the market."
