Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Once I got out of school, I was lucky enough to still remember the way. I found Old Miller’s house without trouble.

The red iron gate was rusted, and the familiar high wall was covered with a grapevine trellis.

From the yard came the clink of cans hitting each other.

I walked closer and pushed open the door. My eyes stung immediately, and my vision blurred as big tears rolled down my cheeks.

Old Miller was bending over, his back hunched, sorting through piles of scrap.

He heard the noise, turned around, and looked at me.

“Nina, why are you home so early today?” he asked.

I didn’t answer. I ran over and hugged him tightly.

“Grandpa’s all dirty, kiddo. Let me wash up first, or you’ll turn into a little messy cat too,” he said gently.

I shook my head, clinging to him and burying my face in his chest.

That familiar, long-missed scent surrounded me, calming my racing heart.

Grandpa stroked my head softly. When he felt my tears, he asked worriedly, “What’s wrong, Nina? Are you crying because someone picked on you at school? Tell grandpa about it.”

“Nothing... I just missed you, Grandpa,” I mumbled.

After a long while, Grandpa took my hand and led me inside. He washed his hands carefully in a basin, changed into clean clothes, put on an apron, and walked into the kitchen.

“Nina, the chicken wings at the market were fresh today. I’ll make your favorite cola chicken wings,” he said.

“Grandpa, you’re the best!” The sweet aroma of cooking drifted from the kitchen.

I lay on my side on the sofa, as warm sunlight streamed through the window and onto my body. This happiness felt too good to be true.

I pinched the back of my thigh—thankfully, it hurt. This wasn’t a dream.