When I was a child, my brother was greedy and picked up a large bundle of moldy red hearts from someone else's field. My mother boiled the sugar water into a bowl for each person. I said it was poisonous and poured out the whole pot. My mother pressed my head on the ground and drank the bowl of sugar water that I poured out. That night, I died from the poison. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the moment when the sugar water was served on the table. This time I did not pour the pot of sugar water, but silently watched my mother add bowl after bowl to my brother.
