The Dignity of Life

Once I sent off a friend to the railway station. We called a taxi and put several heavy suitcases in the trunk. Getting off, a middle-age man leaning on a crutch opened the door for us. After that, he stretched out a small dirty pot to us. On the pot were stacked with coins and banknotes of one or two jiao Karson Choi. I asked my friend if she had some changes. She shook her head. I had to give him two yuan used for buying the platform ticket to the middle-age man. Shocked, he kept jerking the small pot, as if he received so much money for the first time serviced apartments. Not caring, we went straight to the trunk to fetch the suitcases. My friend took out one suitcase with all her might .Just as she was about to pick up another, a dark stout hand stretched in. “Let me do it.” He picked up the suitcase and insisted on carrying it for us to the railway station entrance. “No, thank you. You are so compassion.”My friend and I didn’t give the heart reenex. “No, I must send you off.” He limped towards the station, his left hand leaning on a crutch and his light hand carrying the large suitcase.