White City Murder Expo

After dinner, I put on my gloves and dug the dog out of the garden and buried it under a tree in the backyard by seven o'clock at night.The moonlight is like fog, and there is still an unfaded twilight on the horizon farther away. I heard the sound of the window opening upstairs, and I followed the sound. Butcher looked at me from the window with his head on his head, and put his pen on his ear. .

I looked away, took off my gloves and put them aside, went back to the first floor to take a shower, to wash away the earthy smell and the faint smell of dead animals.After a while, there was a sound of turning the handle on the door, but I had already locked it.When I opened the door, Butcher stood at the door with a blank expression on his face. He smiled dully when he noticed my gaze.I resisted the urge to take a step back and told him, "I'm going out."

"You have taken a shower, where are you going?"

"Surrender yourself." After I finished speaking, I bypassed him, shrugged off the clothes on the back of the chair, and walked out the door.

"You won't, Sue."

he said behind his back.

No, I won't, I just don't want to be at home.I walked aimlessly on the road and passed the old lamplighter.After walking for a while, there was a figure under the street lamp, it was Hunter.He pasted a piece of paper on the lamp post and looked at it for a while, countless flying insects circled around the light above his head.He bent down and picked up a small bucket from the ground, with a stack of papers under his arm, walked towards me, and nodded slightly to me.

I was about to say something, but then I watched him stagger on the flat ground, the bucket in his hand fell to the ground, and the milky white paste poured out; he hurried to pick it up, and the papers under his arm fell off again. on the ground.I helped him pick up the papers one by one and piled them into a stack.Those papers are the inspiration of looking for dogs, each handwriting is neat and neat, and the stick figure on the top shows the appearance of a lamb sticking out its tongue. There are at least twenty or thirty sheets, enough to be pasted under every lamp in the town.

"I'm with you, okay?" I asked.

Hunter gave me a surprised look and nodded.I want to say that you draw very well and look alike, but I am afraid that I will make him feel sad.We walked side by side in silence, passing each lamp, Hunter brushed the paste on the lamp post, I pasted the paper up, this boring cooperation was repeated, and finally I had written down the paper. Every word of the words, a kind of almost needle-like sadness welled up in my heart, all of this is meaningless, and I can't tell him.

"This should be the last light," he said, turning to me. "Thank you, Mr. Sides. What were you going to do? I'll see you off."

I said casually, "I was going to have a drink. Would you like to join me?"

Hunter shook his head: "I don't want to see anyone else today. How about coming to my house?"

After hesitating for a while, I agreed.

On the way back, Hunter told me about the Inspector's death.When I first heard the news, I couldn't help but raise my heart, and I continued to ask questions pretending to be curious.

"Suicide? Presumably," I said, "well, not tonight." I turned to when he first moved in, and I said I hated him so much.Hunter scratched his red hair, put his hands in his pockets, and took them out again.

"Do you still hate me that much?" he asked.

"I don't know. I get annoyed every time I see you."

He smiled, as if embarrassed, and then said, "I'm sorry."

"What?" I asked.

He said, "I didn't mean to laugh at you. I'll make apple pie too, next time..."

I didn't hear the words behind.My nasal cavity is sore, but I don't know how to describe that feeling for a while.

With the wind that swept into the room when the door was opened, a ball of paper rolled to the ground.When we arrived at Hunter's house, his room looked cluttered, with an unextinguished alcohol lamp on the table, scattered charcoal pencils, and some bread crumbs.Hunter stopped in front of me and cleaned up all the useless things on the table with a wastebasket.I helped him pick up the ball of paper on the ground.He went to wash two glasses and we drank the same whiskey as we had at Cillian's that night.Cillian, I thought, felt a little uneasy just passing the name for some reason.I remember doing it last night, and it was me who made the offer, but it seemed like something else was up in the air.

Ding.Hunter touched my glass: "I don't know who you're thinking sometimes."

"Oh no," I said, "I'm just in a daze."

I let go of my eyes and stared straight at the carpet in front of me. A line of sight fell on my face all the time. I turned my head, and Hunter met my eyes without hesitation.

"Can I draw a picture of you?" he asked.

"You're tired today." I said.

"No, I'm bored. So come on, sit down, just sit here."

When he said that, I didn't know how to reject him.Right now, I will agree to any request, even if my own worth is minimal, and there is no real compensation.

Hunter pulled me to sit in front of the drawing board. I was very uncomfortable and froze.During the whole process, I just sat and let him come and fiddle with me from time to time. He said that I was the stupidest and most lifeless model he had ever drawn, and my bones were not good. "Oh, then stop writing quickly." I said, standing up in a hurry, and was grabbed by him.

"Are you angry?"

"Nothing," I said, "it's just that I'm too stupid and ugly to be drawn."

"You're angry." He said firmly.

I can't be bothered to argue with him anymore.

Hunter looked at me seriously and said, "In all fairness, you look good, Sue." I was almost surprised to hear such a compliment, and I always thought the next sentence would be sarcastic again, but he didn't say anything after that. Said, the hand holding my wrist did not let go, and gently rubbed the skin of my forearm with the pulp of the fingers.He tentatively grabbed my shoulder, then hugged me, resting his head on my shoulder. "I don't have to look at you to remember your face."

The tone almost asking for credit was like a child's. I patted him on the shoulder, not knowing what to answer, but fortunately he seemed to be talking to himself.

"I thought you looked good when I first moved here, but I don't know why you hate me so much, and I didn't do anything wrong. And your son looks weird too."

"Leave Butcher alone," I interrupted him.

"Okay," he said, "so can I kiss you?"

Obviously he wasn't asking for my opinion, as soon as the words fell, the kiss fell.I don't really like or hate the feeling, it just seems like it's intimate.There was a strong feeling of almost love in the air, I was restless, pushed away his arm around my waist, turned my head and lit a cigarette, and soon, the disturbing meaning dissipated .No one went back to take care of the painting.He took a puff of the cigarette by my hand, stared at me for a long time, and said that he liked my mouth the most, half-open, always showing a very confused and slightly drunken expression.Why do you always look so innocent, he asked, do you even know you are 40 years old?Are you deliberately trying to get someone to do something to you?

"That's right," I said, though far from it, I was just born with a bit of a bunny tooth.After hearing this, Hunter suddenly became reticent, and his ears slowly turned red.I love how he is attracted to me and makes me feel wanted.

"You seem sad, Sue, why?" Hunter asked.

"I feel...no, fuck it," I said.I don't want to describe how I feel right now.If it's just a vague bitterness and depression, it's probably bearable, and it's worse than not knowing exactly where the pain is.I hope he doesn't give me a chance to think so much.

Hunter pushed me down on the couch and undid my belt, before I pinched my cigarette so the ash wouldn't get on me.He asked me for a kiss again, and I avoided it cautiously, he seemed a little disappointed.I looked into his eyes and suddenly felt that perhaps it was not an appropriate decision to make now.He's tired, and while still responsive to flirting, all he really needs is hugs, kisses, and rest.I hooked his neck, raised my head and kissed him, he hesitated for a while before starting to kiss back, I would no longer push him away, let him hug me tightly and press on me, after a while, I heard Hunter's muffled cries.

"Can you stay with me tonight?" he asked.

"I promised Butcher I'd go back," I said.I didn't really make that promise.

"I'm scared."

"Me too," I patted him on the back after a while, "I'm leaving."

**

When I got home, Butcher was waiting for me at home. "Did you go for a drink, Dad?"

"A little bit," I said, "I want to drink some more now." I went to pour the wine, and he didn't stop me. I found that he would compromise with me every time he felt wrong.I soon got myself dizzy and felt that my troubles were not bothering me so much anymore. "You go to bed early." I said, and went back to my room, this time I forgot to lock the door.

I fell asleep half asleep for a while, someone touched me, and soon I woke up.Butcher, in the dim environment, his eyes don't seem so blue.For no reason, I suddenly felt that what I had always cared about before didn't really matter.If I can satisfy him, can Butcher stop those abnormal behaviors?

He still expanded semi-forcedly and a little rudely as before, and leaned over to ask me where I went. I think he knew the answer, so he was so angry.I think of my pine needle aftershave, and feel a little relief from the pain.

"Butcher," I said, "come on, I won't tell you."

Other than that, I fulfilled his every request, Butcher kissed my ears, stroked those overly soft parts of my waist, eager to do it again, and I was already sleepy passed.

Butcher was persistent in trying to get me up to take a shower, and he was very clean: "You're going to get sick."

"Let me die," I said.He pretended not to hear.