White City Murder Expo

I did not see him for a long time after I broke up with Cirrian.Time seems to flow quickly and evenly in my pharmacy, as the boxes in the glass case in front of me are constantly being taken out and filled, and no matter how they are arranged, they all look exactly the same as before.Living in steadiness is stable, safe, and frustrating.I used to ask myself: which one would you be willing to sacrifice to keep the other?I don't have an answer yet.

My concentration was getting more and more slack, and sometimes I couldn't do anything without going out of my way to have a drink.Even so, I took far too many orders because my mind wandered, far more than two people could handle.Therefore, I stayed in Chicago almost all this time, resting directly in the store when it was too late; before I knew it, the thin blanket on the chair was free of dust and stained with my own smell.Occasionally, I wake up from an uncomfortable dream in the middle of the night and see the deep aisle between the shelves leading into the darkness. With a slight movement, the blanket will slide from my knees to the floor. Whenever this time, I sincerely hope that I can see Seeing something familiar... This fragile feeling did not fade even at dawn.

I looked forward to it day after day, but I didn't expect to see Cillian and the gently closed door beside him after the wind chimes rang.

"Hello...?" I said, took off my glasses, put them on the envelope at hand, and looked up at the calendar: it's a working day now; it's daytime outside the window.Are our officers missing work?

"Oh," he said, as if momentarily at a loss for words, "you look different now." I was noncommittal.I have heard so many similar words during this time that I no longer feel offended or surprised.

"Thank you. What can you do?"

I tried my best to look cool.But man, it was a real pleasure to meet him.I wiped off my glasses and put them back on, peering at him over the top of the frame.Cillian he still looks as soft and calm as a gray afternoon, as unremarkable as I can get.

"There was a little accident yesterday," he said. "Andy tried to escape during the day while I was going to work."

I was horrified when I heard that.Immediately afterwards, he emphasized: "Trying. In other words, he still didn't run away in the end." Well, of course, this result is also predictable.Andy's an idiot and can't do much.

"So, I want you to come to my house and help keep him under control while I'm at work."

"What? No," I said, "won't you tie him up?"

But obviously he didn't want to do that.

"You're crazy. I have my own things to do, too."

"Then maybe next time he will really run away," Cillian said.

What he said was ordinary declarative sentences, but I read a little threat in it, the subtext of "you can figure it out".He's a little annoyed with me too, isn't he?Will Sirian also have the emotions and desires of ordinary people?After he left, I started thinking about it.In fact, he looks a little bit angry, which is more cute than the usual half-dead.Am I really pissing him off?The idea amuses me.

Anyway, I made a compromise with Sirian.I went to Cillian's on the third day of Cillion's visit to the pharmacy after throwing things at random at the clerk, as I expected, he was wearing Cillian's apron when I entered the house , holding a small carving knife in his hand, lowered his head, and concentrated on carving something, as if he was a master.

Cillian was not bad to him, and his gentle attitude would lower his authority. Of course, he probably didn't care.

"Good afternoon." Andy greeted me.I nodded, originally I wanted to say "I heard you ran away once", but when I got to my mouth, I felt very strange, so I stopped.I thought about it, and then asked, "How does it feel to be here?"

"Cillian's cooking sucks," said Andy.

I wanted to laugh when I heard it, but after the topic ended, silence followed.Probably because we both know what I'm here for.He was my prisoner, and probably few people would be content with such a controlled status.However, I can't help it. Who told him not to die.

Andy went back to doing his own thing.After a while, I pointed to the objects on the table and asked him, "What is this doing?"

Andy wipes his hands on his apron and shows me a wooden bauble he's made: a crouching fox with its tail up against its back in a squirrel-like pose.He told me that Cillian did it with him the other day.

"Do you want it? I can give it to you, Suy." He said, with a hint of credit.I haven't expressed whether I want it or not, but he hesitated first, put the little thing into his pocket again, and said vaguely: "Uh, forget it, I'll make another one for you."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He opened his mouth and finally just smiled awkwardly: "I'll make you a better one," he said.

"Come on," I said, "I hate foxes." I felt like I might know why he wouldn't give me that thing again, but didn't want it to be what I thought it was.I felt sick to my stomach, and even my gastric juices became burning.Does that have anything to do with Sirian?

As if in a fit of anger, Andy and I didn't speak a word for the rest of the day.

I poured out a little wine, and spent the day turning over those old postings that Cillian had ordered.Cillian doesn't like reading. There are only some illustration books and reference books at home, and I can neither read nor read them.Before this day, I had no idea that the time would be so difficult. In the evening, after Sirian came back, he was still taking off his shoes in the porch, and I couldn't wait to leave as if I was running away.

It feels so good to have dinner with Butcher at home, and I cook more dishes without paying attention.Lying in bed at night, I waited for a long time until I fell asleep, but Butcher didn't come; when I woke up the next morning, he went to school again.

Like now, it should be the normal result I have been waiting for for a long time, but my whole body is cold and my bones are sore.Although my body temperature is not high, and I don't feel tingling when I touch the skin of my arm, maybe I have a high fever.Maybe I'm going to die soon.My life is also like those things that are imposed on me. When I finally get used to it, I have to take it away immediately.I sat on the bed, my hair was disheveled, and I saw the sky outside the window was very clear. In this season, if I could stay at home and close the curtains, I would be fine.

It took me a while to convince myself to get out of bed, but what's worse, I have to go to Cillian's part-time job as a prison guard again today.

Andy was busy with his handiwork when I walked in, didn't even look up at me, just tilted his head slightly and turned his ear toward me as I approached, but I had nothing to say.I made a cup of hot coffee, sat across from him, took out the letter paper from my pocket, unfolded it on the table, and smoothed it out; I used a piece of wood at hand to absorb the spilled ink from the inferior pen.

Dear Stranger:

Have you ever experienced drowning?Constantly sinking and sinking, the river water poured into the ears, and all the sounds around became so unreal. Through the ripples of the water, it could be seen that it was still daytime above.I was seven years old that year, and I felt relief at the thought of death.

I don't know how long it took, I woke up in bed.One of my older sisters sat next to me, and I still remember her calf-like clear, tearful eyes.Later our family moved away from the riverside.We're a big family, like an army.

Recently, I often correspond with my anonymous friend. The letters exchanged are ridiculous. It’s almost the two of us talking to each other. There are few substantive exchanges that can promote the relationship. I don’t know if this person is a man or a woman, and It seems that the other party has no intention of revealing my name to me.But it was this utter ambiguity that comforted me, like talking to a tree hole, which would not laugh at you but accept everything silently.Now I have nothing to say to people. Even if I meet Susan on the road, I am very calm and numb. Her concern and contempt will never touch me again.Everything I experienced was too complicated and heavy, wrapped tightly around my body like a blanket soaked with water, and when the entanglement and pain exceeded the range that ordinary people can bear, the pain became my arrogant capital; I think it's like some people use scars as epaulettes.

Is it this vague arrogance that makes me look different?I look in the mirror every day and I don't think I look different, yet people see me and say: You've changed, Sue.

Although these people do not include Andy.

After nearly a week of getting along, Andy became familiar with me again, just like my patient before, revealing more of a weak character and causing trouble, like a spoiled child who takes care for granted .At first, I just asked for an extra cup of coffee; then it turned into interrupting my reading at any time, asking me to hand him materials and tools, things on the table; followed by things in the cabinet, things upstairs.

I pretended not to hear him the third time he asked me to look for the gauges in the attic.

Andy hustled me again, and this time I got into a fight with him, pulled him by the hair, dragged him into the bathroom, cut the reins in the empty stable, tied his ankles to the hose.

Andy was stunned by his situation when he woke up.He looked at me like a little bastard suddenly out of favor.For a moment, I saw Butcher's irritability and frustration when he didn't get what he wanted, an expression unique to young people.

"My eyes are swollen," he said, "and I'm scared."

I washed the towel and wiped his face, wiping all the dirt and blood off his face.I secretly made up my mind to do all this very lightly and patiently, not for atonement, but to find something meaningless for myself that needs to be focused on.Andy's left eye was swollen because he bit me so hard.His face twitched slightly and his body trembled as the towel passed over the wound.I felt as if I was taking care of a terrified laboratory animal, a soft creature that was well behaved, didn't understand what was going on, and would always whimper instead of howl.Sometimes people and guinea pigs don't seem to be that different.

While I was washing the towels, I suddenly felt very sad. My blood seemed to be cooling down as I soaked my hands in the warm water that was getting colder. "I'm so tired, Andy," I said.

He didn't answer, even when he heard the word Andy, he froze for a moment before reacting.It wasn't his real name after all, just like no one would ever be his real friend.

I asked again, "Can you forgive me?"

He looked up at me and pulled the rope on his feet helplessly.

"Oh," I said, "I'm really sorry."

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Friends, I don't want to go to college anymore.I'm too sleepy and tired and I have no friends