He got up and left, and Belus didn't stop him.

When the door opened, a cold wind blew into the room, and Belus saw the faint light in the house opposite, as if he were staring at them.

Not only the eyes, there is something to look at, but also to hear.

John played in the yard until seven o'clock, when Langkaram went out for a walk and saw him still walking around the yard, first along the diagonal line and then to the kitchen window.

She wanted to say hello to John, but Tudge, a white Labrador, was in a hurry to go for a walk.

Later, she said to many people that a lot of nosy is not a bad thing, but today's people are not used to face-to-face communication, this kind of communication can be saved, people are too anxious, anxious like a dog to pee, always seems to have something behind the urging.

Samelle's eyes were still shining when she turned on the bathroom faucet, and she was actually a little pleasant, and the corners of her mouth were raised, looking like she was smiling.

Until Representative Foley hurried home to see his wife, her expression remained unchanged, as if the artist had embedded a smile watch on a drawing board with some delicate whitening material.

Five years ago, it was only a brief postpartum depression, and she thought she had overcome it a long time ago. If her father knew, it would be more embarrassing for her than for her to die, and she persevered.

Ten years ago, if she couldn't make a little progress in her painting career, her father would have laughed at her, and she would rather stay in Los Angeles and have no money to buy paint than accept her father's cynicism, and she persevered.

When she was five years old, her father blamed her mother for giving birth to a clumsy child who could neither play the piano well like any other child nor accompany him to various activities, but her mother persevered with her.

She knew that Foley didn't love him, and she probably didn't love either, but Foley loved the family, and she persevered.

They had John, blue eyes like Forlì, brown hair and a face that looked more and more like herself, but she always remembered the father who was far away in New York but was always in Shammel's mind.

John is becoming more and more like her, which makes her hate, she loves John, but has lost the ability to love him.

Those things always appear quietly on a sunny day, covering all beautiful faces.

Living and dying, loving and being loved are all untouchable, and unfortunate things happen quietly, neither foreseen nor inevitable.

Thinking is like loose sand, the tighter you grasp it, the faster it slips away, and in the end only the incomplete consciousness remains, and you can only feel the powerlessness of the brain, which seems to have become an initial form, without pain, without conduction, without perception.

The English poet Edward Thomas once referred to "the dullness and heaviness of the brain". The only consciousness that remained now was just enough for Shamel to feel that it was decaying, that it was abandoning itself, that it was abandoning its flesh-and-blood body.

Whether the body overwhelms the brain, or the brain that leads the body to a dead end, no one can say.

The writer Edgar Allan Poe couldn't tell why he was sometimes excited and sometimes sad.

That feeling came suddenly, but you know it's always there, on one side of the brain, in one corner; It was damp and moldy, and no matter how hard the sun tried, it couldn't penetrate the thick cobwebs on its surface.

And the spider was lifeless.

A year ago, doctors suspected that Shamer had overdosed, and her personal doctor withheld all the treatment for her, and Shamer knew that once she entered the insurance system, her father would immediately know that something was wrong with her.

Soon, everything will be played out one by one like a pre-rehearsed play, the actors are all her, and her marriage must be wrong because she is sick.

The paintings she loves must be wrong, and now the artworks of artificial intelligence can also be auctioned for expensive prices; Her family is a miserable and complete failure, because not only has she failed to be a wife, a mother, and a daughter, but she is about to lose the ability to do these things forever.

In that case, don't insist on it, after all, you don't have to know anything.

For the first time, she thought that there was no shame in doing so, and she no longer felt ashamed.

She had watched John run from one end of the yard to the other, stroking the wall again and again every night, and he couldn't stop.

When she secretly showed the video to her psychiatrist, she showed concern on his face.

She knew it was her fault, and John was helping her bear it.

But she also doesn't feel it anymore, she doesn't need to be ashamed of it anymore, she doesn't need to find a reason for herself to exist anymore.

That's not a bad thing.

Maybe it's a good thing.

Of course.

When the ambulance arrived, Foley was sitting on the floor of the bathroom overflowing with water, and the water was flowing down the stairs to the first floor, and Lang Calam was standing downstairs holding John, who didn't say a word, scratching out blood marks on his right leg and black sticky blood stains on his right fingernails.

Berus sends a message on the data device, and Forlì has no intention of reading it, so he rolls it up and throws it into the bedroom.

He sat on the soaked floor and didn't know when the ambulance arrived, and the robot reported that it had lost signs of life.

He heard these words, but he felt no sorrow or tears.

He slammed on the gas pedal along the way, his heartbeat almost making him breathless, he hadn't felt energetic for a moment since he knew he was sick, and he felt that if the soon-to-be Ford could be younger, he would not let it have a chance to breathe.

But when he got home and saw what he saw, Forley was retarded again, he couldn't think of anything, he couldn't think of anything, his brain searched for emotions at this time, but only found a gray patch.

Should you be angry? Afraid? Still sad.

The damn man should be himself, he let out a horrible laugh, John had already come to his side, and the two watched as the robot carried Shamel downstairs, neither of them made a sound, and their four eyes stared at the cold, flowing water on the floor without blinking.

Tuchi crouched next to Langkaram, next to his master as if he had done something wrong.

God forbid, here's what happened. Oh God, Oh God. The poor woman kept searching for her God.

The kind-hearted Langkalam knew that God could not forgive her, and she could not remember what had just happened.

If I had come in and had a look, would I have been able to save Samell? If it weren't for Tudge's rush for a walk, wouldn't the matter be irreparable?

She couldn't think of it that way, it would never get her out of it, and the memories would come out of Langkaram's chest every night afterward, this dinner moment, tormenting her in every way.

God, what's going on?

She cried loudly, there was no power to stop her from doing so, she had no other way, no matter how kind, she would have hoped that she hadn't walked out of the house with Tucky half an hour earlier, and hadn't seen John playing in the yard.

Representative Foley and John are like two humanoid robots that cut off their motion, they don't say a word, they don't move, like a picture frozen on a data device.