SP | Short Story - "Kidnapping" (I)

From the first step he stepped out of the door, the melancholy in his heart was like a person who traveled far, but he was still worried about whether the electrical appliances and gas in his home were off. After leaving the house, his mind stayed in a way that he could not forget. in the apartment.

He walked forward, down the familiar street, first the laundry next door, then the office that kept changing hands as he was growing up, followed by the mother who often complained about the strange smell, the proprietress who kept a Chihuahua Breakfast shop...

The stability brought by this unchanging daily routine is the first healing he has obtained since he left home. Sometimes he thinks that he is a little sad, and as soon as he leaves home, he begs everywhere for a sense of security, looking forward to getting on and driving to the city. You can observe whether the arrangement and combination of the Jiangnan Street merchants meet psychological expectations along the way.

Next to the bus stop closest to his home is another breakfast shop on this street. The two breakfast shops are separated by many businesses or households that he has incorporated into his daily routine. There is also a short road, and between the two breakfast shops , his most frequented convenience store for three months.

"Ah...he didn't go to work today..."

When passing by the whole family, he looked at the counter inside. His eyes crossed the fences made of bread and rice balls. Like an Olympian, he crossed the barriers and ran to the finish line. The extraordinary athlete finally won the gold medal. He only got the feeling of loss from his unspeakable sweetheart as a consolation prize.

A few weeks ago, he came to the store as usual, and when he saw the aunt from the community check out with three bottles of beer, the number printed on the barcode did not meet the aunt's expectations.

"Why 117, not 79? Didn't it say 79 yuan for 3 pieces?"

With a little dissatisfaction and confusion, the aunt complained in a low voice.

"You read it wrong, it says 21% off 3 pieces, not 79 yuan"

While pointing to the 79 on the price tag, the store manager carefully explained other promotions to the auntie. With a small talk and a promotion, the next second, the aunt walked back to the freezer to get more Tiger beer and came to checkout.

"The alcoholic grows..."

He saw that the aunt was so easy to be hooked, and the arrogance that belonged to the intellectuals caused a gap between him and me.

Just as she was about to begin to comment in her mind, the aunt did not read every word on the notice clearly, criticizing the aunt for not re-examining the situation before asking others questions, just like her mother often complained about the hygiene of another nearby breakfast restaurant.

The thousands of words in his heart turned into a sneer, and when he made a "hum", he heard a clear "puchi" smile.

He looked at the clerk surnamed Fang beside the store manager, expecting to see the same glamorous eyes as before, but this time, there was a girl next door that was not as good as before.

In an instant, he recalled that he sometimes caught a glimpse of the store manager Xiaofang acting like a spoiled child and pretending to be cute. At that time, he didn't pay much attention to it. The contrast turned out to be like in the cold winter, when he found a candle that could not be blown out and lit it. his curiosity about the clerk.

He saw that the collar of the clerk's uniform was only buttoned at the bottom, revealing a few tattoos on the chest, and most of it was covered by the necklace, like watching a horror movie with his hands covering his eyes, and he wanted to spy on the change of the plot through his fingers. The fate of the protagonist, looking forward to how the story will unfold and being afraid of being frightened.

His mood is not far from that of the audience, and he expects to talk to the clerk on the topic of tattoos. He is too cautious about his words and deeds.

"Does the invoice store the carrier?"

A question interrupted the small theater between him and the clerk. The candle that had just been lit was not blown out by the cold wind, but was extinguished by the ice water that was accidentally knocked over.

Although the audience was afraid of the sudden sound effects and gloomy atmosphere of the thriller, he also bought a ticket to enter the theater, and he didn't even buy the movie ticket, and he didn't say a word to the "clerk".

"Oh, good"

He replied briefly, took out his mobile phone and took advantage of the other party's attention to the barcode on the screen, and then carefully looked at the spell-like tattoo again, lamenting that he had been witched again.

(to be continued)

postscript

I mentioned in the previous article : After discussing with my friends, the theme was decided to be "sick". I can play it any way I want. I have really thought about what to write, but I decided to let the inspiration hide for a while and let him first Precipitate in my mind and ferment for a while, so that I can exude a more stylish flavor.

After writing the novel this time, I found that I was not so much writing a story, but I was capturing all the pictures, lines, and all the thoughts that flashed in my mind in words. A friend once said that my words are a bit stream-of-consciousness. Tune, I don't know how that genre is, but it feels good to be classified into the same genre as my favorite writer, Liu Yichang.