"I don't know. ”

The little girl looked at the boy with doubts in her eyes.

"What's that?"

"It's nothing, it's just a profession. ”

The little boy put the crayon in his hand on the table, his voice still low, "Also, don't talk to your parents about what I told you. ”

"What's that?"

The little boy asked suddenly, pointing to the red dots on the painting.

"That's blood. ”

She explained, "My dad had a flag at home, and he killed someone for it." When he said to me to hear all this

"What is this?" he asked.

That's blood," she explained, "and my dad has that flag at home, for that."

Banner, who else did he kill? When he told me all this, I could see it. Your dad, I mean, what did that man do in the war?

"He sold guns to soldiers," the boy said. He drew a bar on the window of the castle, and when he got to the bottom, he drew a small round face looking out, and tears flowed out of his eyes.

The little girl looked at his painting. (, according to below.)

"Can't he escape?" she whispered. He shook his head, then gasped before continuing in a relaxed tone:

"I might be a poet, you know. Or play the violin. I've taken this kind of class too. But, in a way, I have to be very, very good, because next year I'm seven years old, and one"

"Daniel, have you finished drawing another picture?" said the elegant man as he stood up and said in a warning tone. Outside the carriage, the night passed by, the pale lights floated, and the rhythm of the iron wheel sounded faint and far away.

"It's done, father," replied the boy in a crisp voice, and held it up.

Base and cover the little face on the window with your thumb. It was two people playing chess, and they saw "good drawing," and the man sat down again. ，

"What will happen to you?" muttered the little girl. The little boy looked at her with fear in his eyes.

"They might get another baby. He replied quietly. She stared at him as she thought about the whole thing. She took out her notebook and opened it to a new page. "That's not bad," she told him, "and we've got two babies and they're breaking things all the time." They had to follow their grandmother, who was too young to take them in the car. As long as you don't leave the book where they can grab it or tear it, it's better not to. ”

The boy bent his head to reach for the reddish-orange crayons. He began to scribble, drawing piles of swirling things.

The girl continued to whisper: "Your family is rich, unlike our family, I am sure that you will have your own house, and you will not be with the newborn again." It's okay, you look good. ”

She picked up the sky blue crayon again, and the flowers began to look like an ice unicorn child, and then she took out the olive-green crayon, adding many soldiers floating in the sky.

"Look! These are paratroopers, coming to the rescue. ”

"They can't help either. The boy said.

Hearing this, she bit her lip because she knew the boy was right.

She felt quite sad because she actually thought about this layer as well.

The boy put back the red-orange crayons, took out the red and yellow colors, and scribbled them vigorously, holding a crayon in one hand. He painted the whole page with flames. Then, I drew blue and black in the middle of the night and many stars on it. He pulled out a black crayon and drew a club-shaped figure, his limbs sticking out above the flames. Fly up, fall?

"I'm going to be seven years old," he repeatedly, "but they just like new things." ”

"Daniel, what are you drawing now?" asked the lady, and both children looked up in fright, for they did not hear her get up.

"It's a lot of pretty autumn leaves, Mother," said the little boy, holding up the notebook with trembling hands. "See, there's a boy playing, jumping among the leaves. ”

"How creative you are, child!" she said in a hoarse voice, pulling her hair.

"However, you must keep in mind the lessons of Monsieur Picasso and never be mediocre. Now, maybe you can give us some portrait painting. Give us some entertainment. ”

"Good mother," said the little boy, who felt as if he was about to vomit. When the lady returned to her seat, she reached out again and grabbed his hand, and she was surprised, for she generally did not like to touch people.

"Don't be afraid. She whispered.

He quietly flipped to a new page, and she took out her green crayons and began to draw the interlocking patterns of squares, carefully shadowing them.

She looked at him for a moment, then took out her silver and gold crayons and drew a house in which there was a little man in the shape of a stick, and then she took out her olive-green crayons and drew something more beside the little man.

"This is my bomb shelter, and during the war, our city was safe here. ”

"But you can also go in, see? This is your backpack, which I made for you, with long straps." This is your cafeteria so that you are safe later. They are the same color as the soldiers, so you can hide. That's the most important thing. ”

She pointed and said, "See? That's the map." So that you can run away. ”

"I can't get it. He said.

"It doesn't matter, I'll give it to you. She said, and tore the page off, and put it in his pocket.

He leisurely put back the green crayons. Bring your hands close to your chest, take off one of your gloves, and pull out a folded piece of paper. Stuffed it into the pocket again. As he did so, he glanced behind his shoulder, but no one noticed him, and hurriedly put his gloves back on.

"Thank you. He said.

"You're welcome. She replied.

At this moment, the steady noise changed and became louder, and there were three noticeable collisions. No one in the carriage noticed, and many adults were asleep and snoring. In fact, when the train slows down, the most they can do is snort or move in their seats. The nearest east-light gradually approached, and finally stopped outside the window.

It was a flashing red light.

"Ah, here we stand," said the elegant man, "come here, Samoran, Daniel, I think we've seen enough of this dome carriage, haven't we?"

"Enough is enough, father. The boy said, buttoning up his coat. That yawned for the elegant lady and the pose was beautiful.

"Not as fun as I expected. She said slowly, "God, I hate being disappointed, I hate being bored." ”

"You're too easy to get bored. The man said, and she glanced at him viciously, and the little boy shuddered and crawled out.

"I have to go now. He said, looking pitiful.

"Good luck. The little girl said, and the lady glanced at her.

"I'm sure your time to go to bed is over, little girl. ”

"Also, it's rude to stare at people. ”

She lowered her scarlet nail polished hand as if to enchant the little girl, but the little girl dodged it. Two of her nail clippers touched the little girl's eyelids, and at the same time there was a smell of perfume that brought tears to her eyes. The next thing she did was blinking and sneezing. When the family walked to the front of the car to get off, she couldn't see clearly.

But she covered her teary eyes with her palms and knelt in her chair to look out the window. She looked down and saw neither the platform nor the station, only the streetlights.

Where, the tree is closer to the railroad tracks.

There was a long black car waiting there, under a lamp that shook unsteadily under the low trees. The elegant man and woman were stepping into the front seats of the car. The little boy was already in the car. She could see his pale face through the glass window. He looked at her secretly and smiled helplessly, he was so brave that he impressed her. She asked herself if he could be a good fighter, would he be able to jump?

The train began to move again. People woke up, talking, big and small, talking about the pop rain. She grabbed her eyes and sobbed, knowing that her mother stood up to see if she was asleep.

"Did you get anything in your eyes?"

Her mother asked, her voice both stern and worried.

The little girl thought for a moment before answering.

"The rich lady's perfume went in. ”

She said.

"Which rich lady? Honey, don't rub it like that! Bill, give me a napkin, oh, what the hell did you do to yourself?"

"It's the lady who was with the little boy. They were sitting there, they just got out of the car. ”

"Don't lie to your mother," she said, frowning, "those seats were empty the whole time. ”

She looked at her parents with those good eyes and decided not to say anything.

When she got out of the car, she was wrapped in her father's coat to ward off the night and cold. Her eyes were swollen and closed.

She was swollen and tearful for days, and even after they came home, the vision of her eye was still blurry, and she was taken to see an ophthalmologist, and she was given an eye patch, which was useless except to pretend to be a pirate, but called her to hit the wall.

She could tell others what she saw with her good eyes, and she knew a little more, but it was only when she understood why the boy was so desperate to escape, and she sometimes thought of him, when she couldn't sleep in the middle of the night, and when the lights of a passing car brought the shadow of the leaves against her wall.

She always imagined him running through the night village and finding her way through a labyrinth of cobblestone paths, dodging the ** and the worse.

Look for the coach with the dome so he can escape, and the more she thinks of him in her eclipse, the clearer he is in her mind, but it always makes her head hurt, and she is even willing to tear off her skull and keep the picture longer, so that the train will come for him.

But, somehow, just as she was about to get to the safety of the gilded station, the bright morning woke her up, and she was sad and crying, screaming at her mother, banging her head against the wall, trying to drive away the pain.

Eventually, the doctor gave her glasses, and she has been observing the world through thick pink plastic frames since kindergarten.

No one could convince her that she was not ugly among them.

Desire

When William Harrison Glassell came to work at half-past four in the afternoon, he looked like he was twenty years old on a page, his clothes hanging loosely on the thin shelves.

His secretary's office said good to him and went back to typing.

Glassell felt offended, he had never eaten before at work, and he had always been neatly dressed and meticulous when he went to work.

He thought his secretary should be a little nicer to him.

He should make a startled sound, he should have greeted his health, he should have offered advice, she should have stopped him when he walked into the office, and she should have said, "I'm sorry, I didn't want to bother you, but ......"

"Oh, by the way," said his secretary, "there's a parcel of yours that I have on your desk." ”

The parcel is still exciting, and several times the recipient is a person who is looking forward to the unsolicited, meaningless email. This parcel may also have come from a very important person, who was responsible for the task of having treasure and not just advertising. In fact, this small box is too small if it contains advertising flyers.

The size of the parcel could be jewelry, a tie pin with a charity logo, or a fridge sticker.

It was wrapped in brown paper, the address was handwritten, the font was clear, old-fashioned, and it was written by a woman.

Glacel opened it and found a piece of paper wrapped in a small box inside.

The paper reads "Thank you for the homework," with the same handwriting.

"I'm sure you know what to do. ”

Without a signature, Glassell opened the box, and there was indeed a tie pin inside, a silver tie pin, inlaid with a moonstone with a soft-colored rainbow swirling on the stone, which was neither quiet nor bothering.

He searched the paper for watermarks or other clues, examined the box carefully, and then looked down at the tie pin.

It's strange that so much effort is spent on such a small piece of silver.

He touched it with one finger.

If his secretary was there, he would have been upset to see that her boss was suddenly in his twenties and weighed thirty pounds.

Glacel turned to look out the window, and he saw his figure landing on the buildings and fallen leaves of the Royal Academy.

It was the figure of an energetic man.

He closed the box and put it in his pocket.

When William Harrison Glassell joined the Royal Academy of Mystical Arts and Sciences as a Development Officer, he insisted on an office overlooking the campus.

He told the headmaster that wizards couldn't work without a castle on top.

He said, "What the eye does not see, the heart cannot hope for." ”

Since his job was to hope for things, the argument was over.