Feeding

Some people seemed to be saying something, some people seemed to be rummaging through boxes, and some people seemed to be walking around the room with a water glass. Someone seemed to be stroking Lin Jiajia's head, as if stroking an injured animal; someone seemed to be pressing Lin Jiajia's abdomen continuously with a mallet, like a puddle of lifeless rice cakes; someone seemed to have cut open Lin Jiajia's throat, gently pinched the trachea with his fingers, and measured its length. Lin Jiajia felt like she was sleeping on a water bed, because all her cells were soaked in the overflowing tissue fluid and swollen in the blood vessels. The overload of senses made Lin Jiajian unable to hear any noise. The zippers of the curtains were shaking and colliding, the metal in the keyhole of the drawer was singing happily, the fabrics of different textures of silk, wool, nylon fiber were rubbing in the wardrobe, the sound of dripping flow came from the bathroom water pipe, and then there were dull footsteps getting further and further away, and then everything fell silent. The last thing she saw was a white light, nothing less than nothing.