He doesnt haunt my dreams as I feared that night. Instead I am flying far across fields and woods, looking down on those below me. Suddenly I fall to the ground and it is only when I wake up that I realize I was shot by a hunter, brought down by the burden of not the bullet but the soul of the man who shot it. I realize later, with some degree of understanding, that Mike was the hunter holding me down and I am the bird that longs to fly. The next night my dream is similar to the previous nights, but without the hunter. I fly free until I meet another bird who flies with me in perfect harmony. I realize with some relief that there is a bird out there for me, there is another person, not necessarily a lover perhaps just a friend, but there is someone out there who is my soul mate. I think about being a broken vase again and realize that I have glued myself back together, what Mike has is merely a little part of my time in earth, a little understanding of my physical being. He has only, a little piece of me.
当他告诉我他要离开的时候,我感觉自己就像花瓶裂成了碎片,跌落在茶色瓷砖地板上。他一直在说话,解释着为什么要离开,说什么这是最好的,我可以做得更好,都是他的错,与我无关。虽然这些话我已经听上好几千遍了,可每次听完都让我很受伤,或许在这样巨大的打击面前没有人能做到无动于衷。
他走了,我尝试着继续过自己的生活。我烧开水,拿出红色杯子,看着咖啡粉末一点点地落入骨灰瓷的杯子里。这正是我自己的鲜活写照,不断地往下掉咖啡粉末,却从来没有真正地泡成一杯咖啡。
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