Before my grandfather died, he left me 108 rules.
Article 1: Paper figures don't make eye-catching pictures.
I ordered one. It turned its head and looked in one direction.
——There is a body buried there that has been missing for twelve years.
Article 3: Don't answer when called outside the door.
In the corridor of the morgue, someone called my name.
It's grandpa's voice. I didn't agree.
Article 5: Do not tie up paper for living people.
A father opened the door and said that his ten-year-old daughter had drawn a paper figure with crayons on the hospital bed.
The arrow points to Dad. Not asking me to save her—but asking me:
While the paper man is waiting for her, you don't have to pay the storage fee.
Article 108: The paper maker will not turn into a wandering ghost after death.
He will become the next rule in the shop.
This shop doesn't sell paper. It's given as a gift.
Everyone who walks in either comes to see someone else off, or comes to be seen off.
I am the third type - here to take over.
Grandpa said: "Pigeon, the end of this road is me."
