The first time I met him was in the garden of the kindergarten.
The sunshine was just right that afternoon, and he sat quietly on a white wicker chair, his hands placed neatly on his knees together. The sunlight penetrated his almost transparent skin, giving him a hazy halo.
The colorful flowers in the garden seemed to be blooming for him, as if they were trying to get his attention. And he just sat there quietly, like a delicate porcelain doll.
The students in this aristocratic kindergarten have always been lively and public, but whenever they pass by him, the sound of playing will always decrease unconsciously.
I know, in fact, they are all paying attention to him quietly.
The innate sense of superiority they have been taught since childhood will always waver inexplicably in front of him. I will constantly doubt myself until he takes a look at me. Am I worthy of being looked at by him?
Unexpectedly, a month later, I saw him again at home.
Late at night, my mother suddenly woke me up. Under the dim light, I saw that familiar figure.
"Jamie, this is Shay, two years younger than you." Mother said softly, "From today on, he is your brother."
It turned out that his parents were unfortunately attacked and crashed by a Zerg while riding in a hovercraft, leaving him alone to survive. As a close friend of the couple, his mother took on the responsibility of raising him without hesitation.
I couldn't help but lower my head and curl my lips.
When my mother put his hand into my palm, I seemed to be back in the garden that afternoon. I quietly closed my fingers, feeling this unexpected gift, and my heartbeat was so fast that it almost rushed out of my chest.
Purpose: Dog training is a fun article
