路上几乎没有骑车的人和行人,也没有了牛奶摊。我疯了似的在附近绕了一圈,没有找到。第二天,天气依然恶劣。我同样骑车。路上几乎没有骑车的人和行人。却有了牛奶摊。物是旧物,人事已非。摊后是一个十二三岁的孩子,戴着袖箍,黑色的。我怀着最后一线希望,问他:“那位老太太呢?”
There are few cyclists and pedestrians on the road, and there is no milk stall. I went around like crazy and couldn't find it. The next day, the weather was still bad. I ride the same bike. There are few cyclists and pedestrians on the road. But there's a milk stand. Things are old, people are not. Behind the stall is a boy of twelve or thirteen, wearing a sleeve hoop, black. With a last hope, I asked him, "what about the old lady?"
孩子用一种奇怪加警惕的眼神看了我一眼,继而又用一种悲凄的眼神望望袖箍。
The child looked at me with a strange and alert look, and then looked at the sleeve hoop with a sad look.
“天!”我绝望了,“她相信我的!”我在心中嘶喊。“奶奶去了。”孩子说。“那你的爸爸妈妈呢?”“妈妈走啦,爸爸生病躺在床上。”孩子眼中的那抹悲哀更重了。我细细看了一眼这个孩子,乱乱的头发,黑瘦的脸,眼睛很大,却无神;眼底深处有和他奶奶一样的混浊。“你找她有什么事?”他问我。“噢,噢,没什么。”一想不对,“我上次欠了她十元钱,今天特地来还的。”说罢,从口袋里掏出了十元钱。孩子眼中的警惕消失了,说:“你真是好人。”很天真的样子。
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