She didn't understand why, just because she was a little late, her mother became like this, placed inside a small box.
Her fingertips trembled, caressing the familiar face in the photo again and again.
She opened her mouth, wanting to call out 'Mom', but not a sound came out.
Tears fell like rain, drop by drop onto that small box.
She remembered the last time she visited her mother in prison, she had told her that she would definitely find a way to save her, to clear her of the injustice.
Those words still echoed in her ears, yet her mother had ended up like this.
With what should she guard, how should she protect?
The staff member was about to call for someone, after having their item snatched, but upon seeing her alone, weeping in such loneliness, not even able to produce a sound in grief,
guessed the general situation and remained silent.
Having witnessed too many partings between life and death, all she could do was stand there, silently accompanying.
