The last time I saw him was in a dark, damp lane. He was leaning against the wall, holding a half-smoked cigarette in his hand. His hair was a bit long, covering his delicate eyebrows.
Maybe my footsteps were a little loud. He looked up at me. I looked at him. His eyes
Full of red blood and turbid, stagnant like a dead person.
Scared me.
He threw the unlit cigarette under his feet, stepped hard on his shoes, looked at me deeply, then turned and left.
I watched his leaving back until his shadow disappeared on the horizon.
Purpose: The influence of parents on their children