A young boy is on his way to a kindergarten with his mom. He hastily walks, and jumps, and laughs raucously. Two steps, ten steps, fifty steps, one hundred and twenty nine steps later, he trips and bleeds. It hurts, but the boy does not cry. He does not want to. The boy thinks that he needs to be a man. The boy just holds his tears, now forming thin pools in his eyes. Still, he tries to not let a single drop falls. The boy still thinks that he needs to be a man. Suddenly, he smells something, a sweet, satisfying aroma that floats like fish in the water, sweet vanilla ice cream. He looks up. The mother is holding it. She says, don’t stop… just cry. The boy can’t hold on any longer. In the end, he just sobs. It’s not because he wants that ice cream, but he knows somehow he needs to shed those tears. He sniffs and snorts. His mom embraces him tightly, knowing that tender moments of an innocent boy like this will end soon before she even realises it.