On the day of the wedding, my husband's family left my grandfather hanging under the wall without even giving him a glass of water.
A man in a gray jacket walked over and handed him a cup of jasmine tea.
I held my wedding dress and held my grandfather's hand: "Let's go home."
Later I found out that the person who served the tea was divorced, had scars on his hands, and said so little that he seemed to owe the whole world his words.
But he starts at six o'clock every day and drives me around half the city to work.
That cup of tea is hot.
So do people.
