Summary
In the fifth year of my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s, she tried to attack me with a knife.
When she regained her senses, she looked at the wounds on my body and suddenly began to cry.
“Buy me a bottle of pesticide, Ranran.”
In the fifth year of my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s, she tried to attack me with a knife.
When she regained her senses, she looked at the wounds on my body and suddenly began to cry.
“Buy me a bottle of pesticide, Ranran.”