晋江文学城
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1、Cat(上) ...

  •   1.
      I’m leaving now.

      2.
      The man in the mirror seems so familiar, as if we’ve known each other for years.
      The figure looks as pale as marble, except the brown hair and the eyes with the color of midnight. His long thin fingers stroke the silvery grey tie and the snowy collar. He throws a long black windbreaker over his tall body and buttons it up in a graceful pace.
      Then his eye is draw down to his watch.
      Only to see a white smooth afternoon drifting down my hourglass.

      3.
      I made a last glance back at the empty room. A milky sofa with my favorite luxurious leather surface. A Persian carpet-I love the feeling of stepping on the long white fiber. A glass tea table shining like a transparent sapphire, where there is a glass vase containing a lonely pansy.
      I need to make sure that everything useful for my trip has been properly packed. Yes, my smart shirts and the old violin.
      IS THERE ANYTHING LEFT
      I ask myself in silence.
      NOTHING.
      EVERYTHING.

      4.
      So it’s time to go now.
      I leave the keys on the tea table and put on my gloves.
      I ALWAYS FORGET THE KEYS.
      But I won’t this time, or at least, I’m not worried.

      5.
      I didn’t hear its approaching.
      When I had lifted my violin and was about to reach out for my suitcase.
      The cat stops at my feet and curls down beside my shoes in a sheepish way, however without even bordering to glance at the owner of that pair of shoes.
      It’s his cat.

      6.
      Last night I drove her away because of the crime no other than messing up my shirt with her lipstick in the shape of a kiss. I should admit that I am always too susceptible to cleanliness, but the women had no excuse to complain, did she Especially when it happened to be my favorite shirt.
      After all, it was her fault.

      7.
      Shoo!
      I made a soft noise without much patience, but the cat just refuses to move. The room falls into a complete silence and a nasty feeling of drawing is crawling up along my spine. Chilly, chilly cold.
      Winter is my favorite season, though I do not like it. Sound ridiculous, isn’t it Well, I just hate the other three.

      8.
      The snow has come to a rest.

      9.
      I stare at the cat in an unwilling way.
      It fur is white in major, but turns sharply to black on the back, from the shoulders to the tail. The contrast is as striking as Chinese ink splashed on virgin snow. Charming and attractive in appearance, or in other words, being perfect as a cat.
      And so is he.
      But why did it come up to me
      What’s going on here Dancers are hiding their faces under masks, pretty or ugly. But it has nothing to do with the cat and it knows nothing. Poor silly beast.
      This thought inserts me with a sense of superior, so I smile, but not in my eyes.
      It comes merely for warmth. I guess.
      I sigh and put down my violin. It’s a waste of time to argue with a cat and one should always keep that in mind. Indulging is certainly not a wise choice but, I mean, neither will that do much harm if just for a single more time.
      The last time.

      10.
      The cozy atmosphere of the bar always make me feel warm and safe, as if finally back home after a long long struggle in the dark dark night. Glass floor. Glass table. Glass stairs. Everything is made of the splendid but fragile material. I am obsessed with the fragrance mixed by alcohol and rosa.
      I go there every Saturday night and order the same drink. Martini has a flavor of reserved sorrow. I don not know why.
      So I just sit quietly in the corner, sipping my drink or picking the olive with a toothpick, and watch everything going on as an outsider. The pretty bar owner keeps a couple of cats.
      A black one, and a white one.
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第1章 Cat(上)

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