LOVE in Indiana（4）

(5)

There was half a cobweb on the lock, which I wiped away with my hand, and I hurried on to the bench and out of the window.

After rubbing my shoes on the cotton mat at the door, I found that I didn't need them because the dust on the floor was thick.

And the lights don't work. I flicked the switch, and it just flashed.

I turned it off.

The room smelled cool and musty. The bookcase has a few mildew points. This place is damp, and it doesn't help that we built the house half a meter high. In addition to the fact that the sun is blocked by high-rise buildings on all sides, there is a more humid back patio. The ones Ken and I have are the most stylish. When we had good conversations, complaining about the house was a common topic. Look FOR SOMEONE TO CHANGE THE ROTTEN FLOOR INTO MARBLE FLOOR TILE LATER, THE LIKELIHOOD LOOKS NOT QUITE BUILD, STUCK THE PLASTIC FLOOR OF COPY BLUE BRICK AGAIN, VERY REALISTIC. There was no way to deal with the rotting wall behind the door, so it was left to rot.

I stared at the wall for a moment, thinking of Ken, thinking that I had thought he would give me a lift in his car, thinking that if he said so, the good feelings I had talked about would be restored. I thought it was fake. I knew he could not draw me, so I made this open and friendly gesture.

We all know that.

Anyway, it's almost time. This place isn't gonna last forever.

I looked around, at the table in front of the window, at the easel in the corner, with the unfinished picture on it. Red, green, yellow, purple, rags. I forget what I was trying to draw.

Damn it! What a memory! I left it and opened the cupboard.

One half is paper and pencil paint, the other is two storage bins for clothes.

I turned it over and found a down jacket. Short style, lapels, a few years ago felt outdated, now look can be worn again.

I took off my oily coat, rolled it up carefully, put it in a plastic bag, pressed it, and packed it in my bag.

So there we go? Go now?

I walked to my desk and touched it. It was like I was in a dream.

I dreamed about this place, standing right here. The light is broken. It won't work.

Out of nowhere came the smell of frying hot pepper. You don't smell like that in your dreams. Besides, the darkness in dreams is more like an illusion. I seemed to be awakened, and looked at the table neatly folded albums, posters, unopened magazines.

Toilet door is open, SHOW the ceramic tile metopE OF hazel, half wash a FACE pool.

The toilet was brushed before I left last time, and it still smells strongly of urine.

Beyond that is the boarded-up bedroom.

To save space, I bought a sofa bed.

Bedding is also simple, a mattress, a thin quilt. It's air-conditioned. It's not cold.

But the quilt was always made. Even if I take a nap, I will make the bed casually. I don't like the quilt spread out on the bed.

But now the quilt was open, and there was a lump arching over the head, as if someone had pulled it back.

Who? Who's been sleeping in here?

I saw the shiny head of the doorman, and the frightening steel doors and Windows, not for no reason, were they? Isn't it safe around here these days? Stretching out his hand just want to fold the bed, see a few strands of black gray hair.

Who? Is there anyone there?

I this scared, brain bang, scalp is numb, jump to the door, watching the quilt wriggle a few times, arch out of a person.

A slightly longer, normal face, with eyes and nose in good shape, but I can't tell where it is crooked and deflated, like an apple squeezed by a heavy object.

I looked at him, looked at him, and suddenly remembered that when I was a child, I had a neighbor whose face looked like this. Behind his back, everyone said he had leprosy. His fingers would fall off, and his nose would undergo another strange physical movement, like a candle melting away when it gets hot.

The thought of that noseless face made my back numb. How to do? How do we get him out of here? We have to get him out of here.

He was not sure what he had in his hand. He looked at me flustered and calm, as if he was the master here and I was the one who should go out. What is this? "This is my room. You can't come in." I tried to tell him properly, but I couldn't. My voice was too shrill.

"Oh?" He slowly emerged from the quilt to reveal his blue cloth, which was buttoned under the collar.

"This is my house. You have to get out!"

After saying "You're out" and "I'm looking for someone" so many times, I decided I had to do something about it. I ran to the wall that Ken and I shared, screaming "Ken" out of control and banging on the wall. But there was no sound from Chen Gan's side. Is he gone? Not so fast, is it? I shouted "Ken" a few more times, took out my phone, felt I had to call the police, and then find the bald man in charge of the door. The uncle must be called back.

I turned to the phone book, had not called out, the blue cloth jumped off the bed, quick, strange, with a burst of hot wind, also do not speak, suddenly pushed me to the sofa bed. Before I knew it, he had slipped his hands under my arms out of nowhere.

"You!" I kicked him and missed. I was scared now, but I couldn't push him away.

I know what a uniform is now. There is no room for resistance, by his backhand a twist, my strength all disappear, the brain is also covered. It felt as though his hands were playing a lute, string by string, over my ribs, resting on my chest, fingers cold. My hair stood on end, and soon I knew nothing.