On no account should I refuse Tony’s entry, since my brother was so deeply attached to this faithful companion. Overcome with self-blame, I burst out crying, tears of regret coursing down my face. I heaved a sigh of regret, not knowing how to make up for this mistake. As I was lost deep in thought, my wife approached with a brilliant idea. “What if I prepare some biscuits? Taking them, you go to your brother’s house and make an apology.” I considered this suggestion acceptable. Before long, the biscuits were ready, an inviting smell filling the air.

“But would he slam the door in my face?” I thought to myself. My heartbeat accelerated when I pictured my brother’s cold shoulder. The night wind whistled through the buildings. Still, I plucked up my courage to knock on the door. Out came my brother, emotionless. Presenting him with the hand-made biscuits, I apologized, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings that night.” Much to my astonishment, my brother took over the biscuits and invited me inside. All of a sudden, the month-long misunderstanding was replaced with tolerance and acceptance. A stronger bond emerged between us.