The day after my brother died, I came to the house for the second time.
The door was unlocked, and I saw him as soon as I pushed it open. He squatted there, facing the corner of the room, holding his head in his hands, shaking his shoulders, and crying softly. It looked like he was extremely hurt. I asked him to raise his head and look at me. He sobbed slightly and raised his head reluctantly. The circles under his eyes were a little red, which he rubbed with his hands when he cried. His face was full of traces of tears. At this moment, he was like a child picked up from the garbage dump. His face was full of sadness and bitterness of being abandoned by this world. He was trembling, crying, and squatting on the ground shivering, with eyes full of distrust and sadness. Looking at him lying on the ground, I suddenly felt sad. My brother is dead. The saddest thing in the world is not his relatives, but him who can do nothing but cry in front of me.