On a rare rainy Saturday afternoon, his wife had already gone out with John. Salmel had never been in the habit of informing the itinerary, and this did not change since the two had John.

Representative Foley has a whole afternoon and dinner to pass away. Passing the time, this is really an incredible word, people always feel that there is not enough time, no matter what city they are in, even if they don't worry about life, they will worry about not enough time to entertain, not enough time to enjoy life, but why do people still need to pass the time, as if time is a superfluous burden and needs to be properly disposed of.

Maybe it's because I'm anxious about time that I don't know how to grasp it. Representative Foley knows that no matter how he spends this time, it's never a good idea to stay home and not go anywhere. If there's anything that can make time pass faster, Foley knows by the very least, and nothing could be more useful than that.

He quickly finished the rest of the work at his desk, some instrument testing contracts and plans for new projects. Pretty much all of the new projects were left to Rhodes, and that's fine, Foley thought, who knows if it's a blessing or a curse, and it's more romantic to have some time to do what you want to do than to run for a living at the end of your life.

Thinking about it, it was as if he were going back to his school days, knowing where he was going, and knowing that the place would keep him from thinking about the bad things all afternoon, which should have been moved to the basement, covered with a thick cloth, turned off all the lights, even the emergency lights, locked the door completely, and threw the key into the Pacific Ocean, never to set foot on the beach again, never to find the key again.

He changed into a comfortable light-colored cotton and linen shirt and prepared to go out, and with his body moving and a clear destination, Forlì's spirit was much more relaxed, and he enjoyed the ease. The afternoon destination was almost every week before the wedding, and once every few months after the wedding, and John never went there again after he was born.

The Last Bookstore, the bookstore he used to work part-time at when he was a student, left him with wonderful and happy memories, those times seemed to never end, and when the day's work was all over, talking to the clerk about his favorite author was definitely the happiest moment of the day.

At that time, Foley, like the rest of the clerk, liked Karelina Lessena, the beautiful Hispanic clerk who always introduced interesting books to every customer who asked her, and the books she recommended, whether really interesting or not, seemed to be so many people couldn't resist reading them overnight because of her introductions, so that they could go to her the next day to get a new one.

Where did Karenina go, she knew she should have left the phone, even though Karenina was 11 years older than ever. In the eyes of a boy in his early 20s, a woman in her 30s always has an irresistible charm. And now that Foley finds the name of the bookstore seems to be laughing at something, the last bookstore, the last hour, seems to be talking about itself.

Buying second-hand books in the Last Bookstore is one of Ephia's great pleasures, he has hardly ever seen Ephia buy new books, even less her to buy e-books, and nowadays there are fewer and fewer people who use books and pens, and most people are used to relying on soft-screen data devices for work and reading.

Just like their name, Datamaker. Some wonderful stories, touching love, the search for life and death, when it comes to the data device, it becomes - data, encoding, and eyesight-protecting self-adjusting lights.

"I'll never read with something like this." Efia often says so. "There's no money to buy used books, it's a paradise for second-hand books, as long as you're willing to spend time waiting and looking."

She could indeed wait there for a long time, in the tunnels of old books, especially in the boat-like science fiction section, where she could spend the entire dinner time on her day off until the bookstore closed.

Maybe you can meet Ephia. Once this thought comes to mind, it lingers, as if you can't put down a book you've been looking for for a long time.

Ephia might be there, why didn't she ever think about it, and if she was still in the city, where could she be more likely to meet her than the largest second-hand bookstore? Without. Efia will definitely go there often, and even wait a little while for them to meet.

Representative Foley came to feel that the idea was not only possible, but very likely. When he stepped into the bookstore, he walked straight down the black steps towards the science fiction section, then slowed down and turned his attention to the book. He knew that if he looked too fast, he would know at a glance whether Ephia was in the store or not.

It's like walking into a doctor's office and thinking that it won't take a few seconds for the doctor to tell you the result, whether it's good or bad. He doesn't want to know the result so quickly anymore, he can wait, indefinitely.

In waiting, because there is a goal, because of the fantasy of the goal, the waiting time is softly stretched, and he gently surrounds himself in it. Gradually, he felt that his cheeks were slightly hot, but his heartbeat was not as fast as he imagined, but it was clearer than usual, and he could hear the vibrations again and again, anxious and calm.

It's not so much that he wants to see Ephia, but that Foley enjoys the mood more at the moment.

Standing in front of your favorite book, memories are like a river sprinkled with gold, and the paperback and hardcover books form a wall, connecting into a tunnel with no beginning and end, dividing the world and time into different graphics; The real and the unreal become blurred, and the outside world gradually loses its voice; Without the noise of children, without the crowd of vehicles, the truth of those days became less credible than false, as if the world of stones, the stairs of Bunker Hill not far away, gradually melted away, and became a story of ashes, which could only be hidden in a corner, and anyone could walk away from it and turn a blind eye.

Everything seems to be waiting to disappear, waiting to be ignored, until you wonder if you have ever existed, if you need to exist.

It was as if he saw a girl, standing in front of a pile of crumbling books, holding in her hand Stanislav Lem's novel, which he had always wanted, the girl was slender and looked protein-deficient. He almost walked up to her, took the girl by the shoulder, snatched the book she was reading, and then confronted her, "Where have you been, Ephia, where the hell have you been?" ”

Here she was, in Foley's eyes, without changing the slightest of her countenance, biting her lip while reading, and Foley sat on the ground and did not step forward, afraid to disturb the girl's reading and to disturb his own waiting.

Maybe the meeting came too soon, and he could continue to indulge in the fantasy that caused him to suffer from short-term selective amnesia, and of course he wanted to forget about the doctor who didn't wear socks, and even about himself. It's not easy to forget, it's much easier to miss everything with a replacement.

Representative Foley longs to be a wave, and the feelings of longing burn further, and he wants to warm his body, and then he approaches her, hugs her, and tells her never to leave him again, and as for the reason, he will tell her, "I don't need to know".