A stew was simmering in the kitchen. Once it was done, the meal for that strange white-haired girl would be complete. All that remained was to keep an eye on the heat, so Mr. Smith left the task to his apprentice and went out to the alley behind the restaurant.
With his work temporarily finished, Mr. Smith planned to smoke a cigarette and take a break.
The small town had no particularly tall buildings... The sky was not blocked by the materials on the earth below.
Mr. Smith liked this place very much—he had studied at the university here, but after graduating, he had chosen not to leave.
Most of his classmates had been puzzled. After all, he had graduated from St. Andrews University, yet he had ultimately become a chef.
Old Smith was clearly furious about Mr. Smith's decision. As a result, the father and son had rarely spoken over the past ten years—even when Mr. Smith's wife, Debra, was about to become pregnant for the second time, only his mother, Mrs. Elara, had been willing to come from their hometown.
Although both his wife, Debra, and his mother, Mrs. Elara, had tried their best to repair the relationship between Old Smith and Mr. Smith, there had been little progress so far.
I really shouldn't let Joe and me end up like my father and me... Smith watched the cigarette smoke slowly disperse and thought to himself.
As he thought about it, he used the free moment to call home. His mother, Mrs. Elara, answered the phone.
After asking about Debra and learning that she was taking an afternoon nap, Mr. Smith suddenly said to his mother, "Mum, could you stop using scary stories to frighten Joe? I think he actually believed them."
Mrs. Elara froze for a moment