Five minutes in heaven, at what cost

The memory on one side is like this: I joined the underworld at the age of 14, and I joined the Volunteer Army at the age of 15. At that time, people would die on the streets at any time, and there were news of petrol bombs every day. He thought it was an honor to kill, it was cool to have a gun, and he hoped that one day he would walk into a bar and someone would applaud him, so as a Protestant, he killed a Catholic, in front of that Catholic's brother. Of course, he didn't know that it was the younger brother who killed him. If he knew, he might have killed him too. He has always been in pain, and there is always a pair of eyes watching him in the memory.

On the other side of the memory: He saw with his own eyes a man who shot and killed his brother, and that man stared at him for a long time before leaving. He felt his mother's endless sadness, and his mother turned all the sadness to hating him, hating his brother for not helping his brother. His father also died soon after, and another brother committed suicide. He never unraveled this knot. He wanted his heaven for five minutes, and he wanted to kill that man. But after learning about the man's situation, he left, but he always had a knot in his heart.

So the two met, and in the house where the crime happened, they fought in a ball and fell out of the window.

Five minutes to heaven. . . .
If the younger brother of the year took revenge.
What is the cost?

Today, I have dinner at the store next to the treasure. Pay first and then put things on. A girl sat at a table next to us with her boyfriend. I saw the waiter put the pot stickers on another aunt, and called the waiter, saying that he was the first to come, why did others serve things first. The waiter said that the auntie's ticket was received first, and the auntie sat there first. The girl was very unconvinced, stood up and rushed to the front desk, asking to check the ticket, saying that her row number should be in the front. In the middle her boyfriend tried to pull her back. Auntie has already eaten, in fact, it's not too long. The front desk was very busy, so she probably didn't check it out. She turned back to her table and splashed the bowl of noodles she had just served, took her boyfriend's hand and left. The whole store was full of sighs, and everyone began to discuss, what kind of quality is so young. Another waiter at the back checked, and it was her number in the front, but why bother. Just for that little pleasure, just for that five seconds of heaven?

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