The little girl looked fragile in thick clothes. Her tiny hands hid in rolled sleeves. Only when she straightened or lifted her arms, some of her nails became visible. Her downy trousers wriggled each time she stamped unsteadily. She was just beginning to learn to walk.
Ahead of her was the only man in the room. He was boyishly monkey-like and seemed too young to be the little girl’s father. But he appeared more caring and calmer than he seemed to be. His hand held a small nursing bottle with one third of the milk left. A wrapped Dove chocolate was held between his lips. An odd piece of peanut skin lingered in a corner of his mouth. He half squatted with opening arms, waved his free fi ngers in great patience, and was ready to embrace the little girl. His puff y eyes fi xed on hers. The stillness of his motion touchingly encouraged her to move. As soon as she moved, he now and then nodded his head; each nod was with a more encouraging smile. And meanwhile his fi ngers breezed more coolness. When she was halfway through, he freed his mouth and dangled the Dove chocolate before his nose. This made her move faster, almost running to his embrace. She happily grabbed the candy with both hands, and he quickly hugged her tight. No living scene was more ordinarily animated than that. A tender emotion of being a father was expressed on his face, and the tenderness entirely refl ected his love. It was as though the little girl was a bliss, and he knew nothing on the face of the earth could be more blissful than her.