on Sunday, after the dance class ended, I took the bus 540 home with my daughter. The car on that day was very crowded, the weather was very sultry, and the driver’s driving skills were not good enough. Several times I brake hard, and I almost didn’t stop. It was not easy. With an empty seat, I said to my daughter to sit down, and a little girl behind. Her mother asked her to sit with her daughter, and her daughter readily agreed. I stood on the side of the two children, the five year old girl, struggling to hold his small nose, and still mutter in his mouth, “the smell of the fish, the stinking death, the stinking death.” This pinch is all the way. I opened my nose and sniffed and sniffed, but I could not smell a bit of fish.