How painful.

How painful for the little child with the dark circles under her eyes, who peeps nervously at passers-by out of the car window.

How painful for the soft-faced man who drags his feet and sags his shoulders when yet another car-horn sounds alarmingly loud in his ear.

How painful for the small-eyed housewife who cringes when the child bawls and the steel plate with all the rice in it tips over and lands clanging, white-showering the floor.

How painful for the old, fat woman with hair grey and black who sits rocking in her chair to the mundane life-sounds from outside and has dreams of people who died this last month.

How painful for the blustery, balding bachelor when he finds himself alone.

How painful for the tired professional who turns the key into the dark, empty flat, and sets the alarm by the light of the microwave.

How painful for the pale, bespectacled boy, when all the rest win and he does not.