han jisung

Jisung is walking through the park. For a year now, his walks have been accompanied by a cane. A cane for the blind. A year ago, life deprived him of his sight, under tragic circumstances.

Halfway from the store to his home, Jisung collided with someone. The bag fell from his hands, and the groceries most likely scattered across the path. He began to apologize frantically, bowing almost to the floor. He was already used to people treating someone like him with disdain. But he'd have to make an effort to find his cane. Just as Jisung was about to spend several dozen minutes searching for the groceries and cane, someone grabbed his hand.

“Sorry, I just…,” the guy continued to apologize, thinking that not very friendly things would rain down on him now.

but then, a cane is placed in his free hand, and the other one, which is being held, is released, and after a couple of seconds, a bag of the usual heaviness appears in the palm.

“Everything is fine, don’t worry,” a pleasant voice is heard nearby.

Tears well up in the boy's eyes. Not because of resentment, not because of grief, not because of happiness. But simply because they treated him like before, like a human being .