His world had collapsed.
But after selling his child, deep remorse plagued him, faint echoes of his son's voice calling him "Daddy" still ringing in his ears.
Crouching on the ground, he turned his face to see on the table outside a small shop, among a collection of toys, a red toy car.
At this moment, innumerable voices inside him were despising and verbally abusing him, cursing him for being weak, for being pathetic, for deserving his fate, for being trash.
Yet he still stood up, picked up the toy car, went to the counter, asked the shopkeeper how much it was, took out his wallet, and paid for it.
Then, he began to walk back, holding the toy.
He took deep breaths continuously, with a pained expression, only able to repeat to himself, "Even if it's just a dog, after being together so long, you develop affection."
He could have left the child with his mother, with that old man, or even at the welfare institution, but he should not have sold him.
