One morning, a man with tears still flooding his eyes knocked on our door. Yeah, there is always an open door; you only need to dare knock on it.

His wife passed away a year ago in a car accident. He said he could not stop missing her, with her lovely image always haunting his mind, causing him to suffer from not only heartbreak but also serious depression. He said he could not sleep one blink every night, recalling her and thinking of her badly, desperate for her to come back. When he said so, the tears that originally flooded inadvertently rolled down. ‘I have to seek a woman who can listen to my story, accompanying me to get through this hardship so that I can move on. I alone really am incompetent to do so. I have seen doctors already, but it doesn’t help much. I especially fear the nights when I have to lie alone in bed. Nights are so quiet and fearful that I cannot stand it.’ He continued telling me the story on one hand, and on the other hand, he was busy rummaging his pockets for a handkerchief to wipe out the tears which have unscrupulously gushed down onto his face.

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