The alley was a full ten years older than me. She was one meter six tall, and she didn't look like a mountain or a dew. A plain face, slightly dark skin, a long ponytail, plus plain clothing, I was not impressed to see it once.
That day, because the unit wanted to engage in activities, I called her. A sweet, naturally delicate voice came from the phone. She spoke slowly, word by word, which was particularly comfortable for people to listen to. I was inexplicably attracted to this voice.
I began to use the name of work every three to five days to find her in her unit, and slowly became acquainted. Later, we added WeChat to each other. From her circle of friends, I know that she likes to draw, writes very well, and occasionally writes poems.
I, a former campus poet, finally found a passion for writing poetry. Time seems to have returned to the time of youth. I wrote my vision of tomorrow, my desire for beauty, in one poem after another, and sent it to her eagerly, wanting to share it with her, and wanting to get her response.
She always put it simply on a perfunctory sentence: "Well written." Or just send a smiley face. When I asked again, she said she couldn't understand or something like that.
Occasionally, we also have tea and chat together. East pull a sentence, west say a word, no head and no brain dialogue, often make each other laugh. When she is happy, we will go climbing mountains and accept the influence of nature. She wasn't happy, so I teased her and took her to see the sea. However, she never took the initiative to find me, and always had a distance, so that I could not get close and could not be separated.
I couldn't figure it out.
I am a handsome tall man, can speak the Tao, know the cold and know the heat, the job is stable, the income is OK, why can't I get her other look?
I had a cold that day, fell asleep for two days, and for the first time I hadn't contacted her for so long. Waking up to check her phone, there was no news from her, disappointed to the extreme. I think she doesn't care about me in the end, just her own troubles. He simply turned off his phone.
On the fourth day, she suddenly appeared on my doorstep. When he saw me, his eyes flashed a trace of sadness. I hurriedly opened the door, and when she stepped in, I took her into my arms. The two hearts were finally clinging to each other. I heard her heartbeat and smelled her grassy hair.
It turned out that holding her was so happy. At that moment, I just wanted to hold her like this for the rest of my life.
I don't know how long later, I felt something warm fall on my shoulder. It was her tears. "What's wrong with my alley?" I was horrified. She broke free of my arms and went to the bathroom with her head down.
When she returned, she chose a chair farther away from me and sat down. I saw that calm face again. That deep look made me confused again.
"Alley, I don't care if you're married or if you're older than me."
"But I care!" She said it so categorically.
The alley's lover died in the line of duty in the army five years ago. Over the years, many enthusiastic people have wanted to introduce her to the object, but she has refused.
After another six months, my relationship with the alley is still not close.
One day, I went to a friend's house and overheard that the alley was going to marry a man who was more than ten years older than her, and the man had a child.
I ran to the alley dorm and questioned her in a hoarse voice. She was calm, boiling water and making tea. When she sent me away, she said lightly, "You should find a better one than me." ”
That night, I lay in bed and remembered Gu Cheng's poem:
The alley was long and curved, with no doors and no windows, and I took an old key and knocked on the thick wall