My Son's Restaurant

When two million was taken out of my bank account, I stared at the numbers on the screen in stunned silence for a long time. My fingertips gently traced the screen of my cell phone; that steadily shrinking number was like a dull knife slowly cutting into my heart. This wasn't a small amount—it was the savings I had slowly built up since I started working in my twenties. When I was young, I worked in a textile factory, waking up before dawn every day and biking to the factory. The machines roared in the workshop, cotton fibers floated everywhere, and by the end of the day, my nostrils were filled with black dust. Back then, the salary wasn't high. Every month when I got paid, I would save most of it, only keeping a little for living expenses. Later, after I got married and had children, expenses grew, but I still kept saving. I bought clothes only when I found bargains, went grocery shopping late in the evening when prices dropped, and even carefully budgeted the household utilities, trying to use as little as possible. This money is the fruit of most of my life's hard work—the safety net I thought I was leaving for my son's future. Now, it's going to turn into a restaurant, to help my son Larry Clark, who was just laid off, make a living. My son was laid off from his company some time ago, and he had been feeling down for a long time after coming home. Every day, he locked himself in his room, not eating or drinking, his eyes full of confusion. Seeing him like that broke my heart, and after much thought, I finally decided to take out my savings to help him open a restaurant.