"Imagine, because I can't figure out what it is."

She said, then without hesitation, tore the picture in front of me.

"You should give up drawing portraits of others without asking for permission."

The pieces of paper fell to the floor.

"Now go away! I'm busy, I don't have time to play with you."

The door slammed shut in front of me.

I bent down, picked up the pieces, and whispered:

"Maybe I didn't draw well... I'm sorry."

Back in my room, I tried to put the picture back together, but no matter what I did, the tears were still there.

I sat looking at the pictures I had drawn.

"They're really ugly."

Lying on the bed, I whispered unconsciously:

"I want to understand you more..."

My chest suddenly tightened, aching in a way I couldn't explain.