Can't cross by oneself

57.

The distance between people is so far, even if they embrace each other, there is an insurmountable gap between them.A net strangles each other so that they can never touch.

The distance between people is so close, just one sentence breaks all barriers.

Mr. Xia hugged me as if he wanted to strangle me.

He's thinner, with a bit more stubble, his face is full of embarrassing fine spots from staying up late, and his eyes are full of tiredness.Live like a little old man.

I don't know what to do, what to say.Just buried in his body instinctively, crying desperately, crying desperately.

No matter what, no need to suppress, no need to cover up, just cry wantonly.

By instinct, after all I am so familiar with him.

We haven't had sex for a long time, and he seems to want to make up, endlessly, desperately.

He hugged me and gasped, choked with sobs.

baby......

Ok.

Your hair grows much longer.

Ok.

when I can't see.

I didn't speak.

it's beautiful.

He leaned over and kissed me.Bury your face in my neck.A murmur-like sound came out.

Come with me.

I was silent for a while.

Do you follow me or not!

it is good.

real? !

When I'm really alone, I'll go find you.

we have a deal.

58.

Another farewell.

Several relatives came to visit the hospital one after another.She shed a few tears and gave me some money.

Mom could only look at us with those almost animal eyes, watching people come and go, like newborn children.

Only father.

I haven't seen him for a long time, but he seems to be a lot shorter than before, maybe because I grew up, and found that he is actually not as tall as I remembered.The years inevitably left knife marks, and the eye sockets were sunken, with the resignation, helplessness, and meanness of a middle-aged man.

Mom didn't seem to want to look at him, she turned her face sideways and pretended to be asleep.

I whispered in her ear.Reassure her and beg her to accept.

Leave the ward to them.I go to the smoking room to smoke.

No matter how harsh life is, how sad the past is, how unwilling to face it.Life is still like this, every step is indispensable.Whether it is happiness or pain.It's all choice.

A person cannot hide his past, under the blue sun and day, he cannot hide the barren night.Simply don't hide it.

Dad left with red eyes.I don't understand how Mom can make him cry just by looking at her.

I stroked her dry hair, guarded her like a child, and reassured her.

59.

On the night she left, the city ushered in the long-lost heavy rain.I know it's not to see my mother off, but just to wash away the city's smog, the heavy and oppressive breath of death.

I can't tell you how I feel.The long-awaited situation has come true.Instead, I felt a little relieved.

You are finally gone.No more pain.Don't put up with it.

I did it all by myself.All kinds of expenses in the hospital, sorting out sundries, smoke and fire in the crematorium, phone calls from several distant relatives and friends.

For the first time in my life I was so busy.

Mr. Xia only sent me a text message:

I love you.I'm waiting for you.

It's like someone locked up in a cellar or a prison is reborn, freed from all gloom.I took a breath of outside air and went home.

I cleared out the cabinet in the bedroom and put the urn in solemnly.

Life has dissipated with the fireworks, and what is left is only given by the living.

60.

I didn't confess to her until she left.There was no intention of confessing from the beginning to the end.

It's just that with the departure of my mother, I really felt that some ability in my body disappeared.I don't know what it is, I figure I'll find out sooner or later.It's just that everything is different.

The hair has already passed the eyes, thin and soft, blocking the sight of myself and others.There was an inexplicable sense of security.

When Yuan Zi and Li Zai came to see me, I was cleaning the bedroom and found a pile of old things, which were left by Mr. Xia.

They brought me out with an attitude bordering on pity.

It's another spring outside.I've been in a state of anxiety for half a year.Once the two people who maintain my life leave, it is equivalent to cutting off my connection with the outside world.

Thinking about it, I also feel strange, how can a person like me fall in love with others.

In the spring of 2004, when SARS came and went in a mighty way, I seemed to have avoided it, and only heard the aftermath of the incident.

Yuan Zi wanted to drag me to have my hair cut.I do not want to.They had to take me to the supermarket.Purchased some clothes, some snacks and fresh fruits and vegetables.

I am finally alone.

61.

Suddenly idle down, actually a little bored.I watched a lot of videos, half of my salary was paid for rent, and the remaining half was used to maintain my life and buy books.

It was very complicated to read. It took me three hours to finish reading "Red and Black", but I didn't remember anything when I closed the book. It seemed that I was just in a daze for three hours.I even felt nauseated in my chest and wanted to vomit.

Looking at the black and white letters under the table lamp with interlaced light and shadow, I suddenly had the urge to write a letter.

I have never really written a letter. When I really took up the pen, I only wrote down the title and greetings, and I couldn't write a single word in the text.

After hesitating for a long time, I decided to start with the simplest way.

The weather is a bit cold today, and the spring breeze is expected to be chilly, but the winter jasmine flowers downstairs are blooming, and the bright yellow ground is very beautiful, which reminds me of the rapeseed flowers in my hometown.Spring is still inevitable.

I wrote two paragraphs of nonsense, and looking back on it myself, there is actually a bit of Murakami.

It gets better and better later on, and the writing becomes smoother and smoother.Thinking that what I wrote was for Mr. Xia to read, I couldn't help but become gentle when I wrote.Write like poetry.

I wrote about my life miscellaneously, what books and movies I watched, the newly opened wonton shop downstairs, which brand of scented tea is delicious, and a pot of marigolds and so on.Like a child showing off his toys to others, he can't say enough, and he can't say it well.

I wrote four pages, but I didn’t feel it when I wrote it. Looking at it again, although it was some messy things, the lines between the lines were full of tenderness.

After asking Mr. Xia's address, he thought I was going to see him.

No.

Then what are you going to do.

send a letter.

Hearing his unconcealed joy, I chuckled.

62.

Received a reply a week later.Opening an envelope is a wonderful feeling.I don't know what's in it, what's written.Secret joy and anticipation, like opening a treasure chest.

The envelope is pure white, the stamp is a local scenery of Mr. Xia, and the postmark is bright red.

Five full pages, one page more than I wrote.I pulled it out and dropped a photo.

He fell asleep lying on the table, the light from the desk lamp hit half of his profile, and the other half was in the shadows.The eyelashes are long, and the stubble is finely shattered, but unexpectedly it looks clean, just like the first time we met.Sleeping so defenseless.

There is a strange feeling in my heart.Who is the person who took his picture?In what mood did you approach Mr. Xia cautiously?

Mr. Xia's handwriting is not good-looking, handwriting that can be imagined.

He wrote about his work and his thoughts, like a love letter.

He seldom writes, and his sentences are a bit messy, and occasionally they cohere strangely.I happily read it word by word several times.

Immediately lean on the desk to reply.

I wrote as soon as I picked up the pen: a love letter is not necessarily a poem, but a poem must be a love letter.

It is conceivable that he read the letter, scratched his head, stared viciously, and had a helpless expression.