Edie’s eyes looked dazed.
When someone wanted to place Old Greg’s cold body on the bed, Stanley opened his mouth.
“This chair was made by his old friend. Dad used to like it best. Let him stay for a bit more.”
Edie stood outside the door, and she heard this sentence. The tears in her eyes could not hold back any longer and coursed down her cheek.
She could see her grandfather’s face from her angle. Grandpa’s head was resting on the back of the chair, the purple clay pot Stuart gave him was still in his arms.
His face hadn’t turned gray yet, only a little pale. She even thought that grandpa was only sleeping, not dead.
“Grandpa...”
She cried out loud while trembling, trying to wake him up.
The moment she let out the cry, her throat started aching, as if
