They Framed My Daughter, So I Burned Them Down

On the first day of my daughter's summer break, I handed her a hundred dollars and sent her off to the market to buy groceries.

She headed out into ninety-eight-degree heat and spotted an old woman, seventy or eighty years old, crouched at the roadside selling shrimp.

The water in the tub had gone warm in the sun, the old woman's face was slick with sweat, and the backs of her hands were wrinkled like dried bark.

My daughter had a soft heart. She handed over the whole hundred dollars, the money meant for groceries.

"Grandma, I'll take all the shrimp. Go home early, okay?"