Miss Story (3)

With the arrival of summer, the weather gradually becomes hot and typhoons come fiercely as expected. On the summer night waiting for the typhoon to make landfall, the electricity in Miss Story's area was cut off and it was pitch black everywhere. Alone in the dark, listening to the wind outside the windows thumping, Miss Story was too scared to sleep, lying in bed on the meager signal to brush the phone, bewildered and panicked to find some comfort. With a lightning bolt lighting up outside the window, Miss Story suddenly recalled that a reader who had recorded his story as audio had sent her the URL of the audio file and asked her to try it out. Unfortunately, at that time, she was too busy with a heavy workload to take care of, and over time, she forgot about it. This made Ms. Story a little ashamed, and with a sense of trying, she went back to her old email records and opened the link. Fortunately, the reader's page was still there, with a neatly arranged list of audio stories, each one written by her. However, according to the login information on the page, the person who read the stories had not logged in for almost a year, and when I looked at the playback records, many of the audio stories had zero plays. At that moment, an inexplicable sourness welled up in Ms. Story's heart, from a very complicated source, and she didn't know whether it was for the reader who had worked so hard but still couldn't maintain a relationship, or for herself who had written a comforting story from her heart and had no one to comfort her in the end. It could also be because she treats each of the stories she writes as her most precious children, and when she sees that although they are carefully made into audio, they end up being left unattended and unheard, turning into unattended waste piled up here, she can't help but feel aggrieved for the children. "In that case, let me be the first listener." Miss Story clicked on the audio at the top of the row. Then she heard her story, and, his voice. Miss Story didn't know how to describe that voice, it was probably ...... well, it was both bright and calm, and it was reassuring to listen to. It is strange to say that this voice actually let the story of the lady gradually forget that at the moment the wind and rain outside the house, lightning and thunder, the original panic state of mind also calm down, no longer afraid of the darkness they are in, and wholeheartedly just want to listen to that voice to continue the story. It is clear that the story is written by herself, the content is very familiar, according to reason she should not be so fascinated. But once paired with that voice, the voice of the strange young man she barely knew, it mixed into wonderful magic that seized her mind and could not be withdrawn. "No wonder so many people like to listen to bedtime stories." Late at night, Miss Story relaxed on her bed, her head leaning against the source of the voice, gradually getting a sense of sleep, "This feeling of being accompanied is indeed great." That night, Miss Storyteller slept soundly and had a happy dream. The next morning she woke up refreshed and found that the storm outside the window had stopped, and the early morning sunlight was pouring on her, not burning, but very gentle. Miss Story suddenly felt a burst of relief and some unexplained happiness. It's a new day, and a new day to cheer up.