After I filled the script, I turned around to see my senior counselling a small boy. He was probably about 10 or 11 years old, only a head taller than the dispensing counter. The boy was listening intently, occasionally interrupting my senior to clarify things. Then, he turned his body slightly to face his mother and started gesturing.
It finally dawned on me. His mother was deaf/mute. I looked on, as he translated everything that was said. His movements were fluid but firm. It was at that moment that I realised that he had a stern gaze in his eyes. He was probably a very mature kid, I thought to myself. I also couldn't help pitying him. Because he had to straddle two different worlds, he had to grow up more quickly than other children. At the same time, I also envied him for the ability to 'speak' another language.