Alienation

The black air comes from the position of the sun at noon. At first no one took it seriously. There was a crack in the sky, like a shoddy wall, and some people were holding up their mobile phones to take pictures. Then the seam tore open, and black air didn't come out, but sprayed out, hitting in all directions. Li Hao was cutting potatoes in the kitchen on the sixth floor. The knife got stuck in the middle. When he looked up, he saw Lao Zhou watering the flowers on the balcony opposite. The black air brushed past Lao Zhou's building. Lao Zhou was okay, but in the window of his downstairs apartment with open windows for ventilation, he was leaning out half of his body. His shoulders just got a little bit, and his whole body started to turn gray from the neck down, like cement pouring, and he fell straight back. There was a bang. Li Hao couldn't hear it, but he knew it was the sound of someone hitting the ground. He threw the knife and rushed into the house. "Don't open the window! Don't even open the window!" The wife was squatting in the corner with her child in her arms. The one-year-old daughter had just fallen asleep and was still chewing on her little mouth. My parents came out of the bedroom. Mom was holding an apron in her hand. Dad—the old man who had fought in the Vietnam War—was already standing at the door, his hand on the doorknob. "What are you doing?" Li Hao pulled him back, "That thing will die if you touch it." This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.