It's two o'clock in the morning, the instant noodles are cold, the credit card bill is under the mug, and my mother is still short of 3,000 yuan for the deposit for hospitalization.
Shen Yu turned the rim of the cup to the wall, deleted the reminder message, and swallowed the lump of noodles. The Adam's apple rolled slightly and paused. It was the same action as swallowing half a wafer cookie handed to me by my deskmate fifteen years ago.
From the rental house to the bus station, from the twelfth floor of the hospital to the water fountain at the end of the company corridor, the soles of the slippers were wearing away little by little in the gray seams. There was no howling, no collapse, no counterattack, just the mouth of the cup turning to the window and back to the wall over and over again, and the scale washed away and accumulated, accumulated and washed again. Sleepiness is more real than wakefulness. Those who dare not fall are gently supported by life and gently worn away.
Until one Sunday, he bought two cucumbers and a tomato at the vegetable market, chopped them into pieces, mixed them into the noodles, and served them on the rooftop. When I swallowed, my Adam's apple rolled slightly - without stopping.
A novel about "stuck in mid-air". It's not falling, it's not rising, it's a person learning to continue breathing in a place where there is neither going up nor going down.
