My father had died. Because I received this message from my mother, I went home for the first time in two years in order to attend the funeral. Because my father had married her while I was in boarding school, it was the first time I’d seen her. My father was born into a rich family, but he was very lavish, and it was his fourth marriage. I opened the door, and I saw a woman. It was my stepmother. Although it was the first time I had seen her, she was the visage of my real mother. It sounds shameless, but I got the urge to fall on her bosom as I used to do when I was a child.
