Deep love never ends

I didn't stop, and the woman really rushed like crazy.

Carrying a spatula, he hid people in my house.

The door was still open and I leaned against the cabinet without paying any attention.

He took a box of cigarettes from the cabinet and lit it and put it between his lips.

I haven't smoked for a long time. I'm almost forgetting the acrimony that pricks my throat.

The thorn is slightly painful, but it makes people addicted.

I don't like smoking, but if I don't smoke, I always feel like there's something less.

Until the woman came out angrily, I knew the result.

I still looked down at my toes.

With a cigarette in his mouth, he took a few small puffs.

"Where's the man? Where's my son?"

She still looked at me, as if she could stare something out of my face.

But she was disappointed.

I've been in the house. Where have I seen her son?

Her voice is not small. Her voice is transmitted from the open door and magnified infinitely in the corridor.

But Rao was like this. I didn't intend to close the door. I still looked at her faintly.

When she saw her guilty mind move away from her sight, she sneered and said, "my door is open all day, and I haven't seen anyone come in. Do you think your son came in secretly, just like those thieves?"

My voice is not very high, but it is also not low.

I didn't like this confrontation very much. After I finished, I held the cigarette with my fingers, which was a little insipid.

Her face turned red when I said this sentence. Without thinking about it, she clenched the spatula and waved at me, "don't talk nonsense. You're the thief. Don't slander my son. Be careful I'll tear your mouth!"

"Tear my mouth?"

I don't want to argue with her, but it doesn't mean I'm a soft persimmon.

When I heard this kind of thief shouting to catch a thief, I still couldn't help sneering.

"Then you can see clearly whose house you are standing in and who is the thief. Let alone this, just breaking into the house is enough for you to eat a pot. Why? You're ready to do it and add a crime of hurting people?"

When she was ready to wave a spatula down at me, I squinted slightly and looked at her dangerously.

But the body did not move, but tightened the body, straightened the spine, raised the chin and looked at her like a smile.

Looking at the pot shovel to fall, he really stopped.

The woman's face was angry. "Just now when I was cooking, the boy went out secretly. I can't find anyone else. If I say, you've hooked up with men now, don't think about three or four. I'm not afraid of capsizing in the gutter!"

She cursed word by word and stared at me with red eyes.

It's like I want to tear me apart.

But because of what I just said, I dare not really take a step forward.

"You should go back and check whether the crime of slander will be prosecuted."

I walked forward a few steps slightly.

She seemed to be frightened. Instead, she stepped back a few steps and looked at me as if she saw the flood and beast.

I bite every word very accurately, and it's very cold. I look at her without emotion.

Before, in order to avoid trouble, I had clearly told the boy upstairs, but I didn't expect that there would be a rash disaster falling on me today.

Originally, this word can restrain this woman.

Although this woman is not very educated and doesn't know the law, she is particularly in awe of the law.

But now he stared at me with red eyes and anger, and his voice was more like a roar.

"I didn't slander you. Look at how many men go in and out of your family. Who knows if you will attack my son. He's still a child. How dare you..."

"Mom!"

A gasping roar sounded.

In the corridor where the echo is very good, it is more clear.

Just one word is enough to penetrate the floor.

The boy I met before, with two bags of food in his hand, hurried up step by step, ashamed and angry.

"Your son."

When the atmosphere was stiff and awkward, I opened my mouth faintly.

The smoke between the fingers has burned more than half, and the curl of smoke is constantly diffuse along the.

I didn't care about the farce here, but looked at the smoke and was a little stunned.

How long has it been since I first hated the smell of smoke and now it's like this.

Sometimes I don't know how long it has been. I always feel that it has been a long time, long and boundless.

The fierce dialogue here brought me back to my senses.

I glanced outside, looked at the young boy with a green face and a stubborn, angry whisper, looked at his mother in an apron and waving a spatula, and closed the door without thinking.

Isolate all sounds from the outside.

There are some annoying things that don't need to be done deliberately. For example, now, if you close the door directly, the sound will be cut off.

Even if the way is a little rough and simple.

I didn't know how long I stood at the door. I just looked at the clock and continued to lean against the cabinet before it was time to go to work.

The smoke between my fingers burned out and changed again. I didn't smoke. I just watched the smoke curl up until the whole house had this choking smell. The door was knocked several times.

"It's me."

There was a low voice outside, like deliberate suppression.

With some prudence and uneasiness.

He tapped a few more times.

I opened the door.

Standing is the boy.

The standard student's head and facial features are not very outstanding, but with the student's special green feeling.

My eyes didn't look at me directly. The whole person was nervous and couldn't stretch his hands and feet.

"I'm sorry just now. I don't know. I really didn't know she would come to you. I'm sorry."

When he spoke, his eyes looked at me, he quickly moved away, and then the tip of his ears began to turn red.

"Yes."

I took a from my throat, but I didn't respond.

He hesitated for a few seconds and seemed stunned. "Do you... Smoke?"

"Yes."

I was in a bad mood for a moment. I deliberately sent the unburned cigarette between my fingers to my lips, smoked a few mouthfuls, leaned against the cabinet, and looked at him with a sneer only from the corner of my eyes.

"No, it's okay."

I didn't miss the disappointment in his eyes.

When I thought I had finally solved this problem, a plastic bag was quickly stuffed into the crack of the door.

Then he said nothing and ran away quickly.

The plastic bag is heavy and contains breakfast.

He brought it when he came back from outside this morning.

The clattering footsteps disappeared. I looked at the bag in my hand with a headache, but my mood didn't get better.

Just as I was about to close the door, the opposite door opened a crack. The middle-aged woman's head poked out and said mockingly, "it's nothing. It's almost time to pull her son into your house."