Kiss me. The girl says.
Timon kissed her white neck, and the skin was so soft that he touched a line of red beaks on his lips.
Hold me. The girl says.
Timon hugged her hard until the last breath of air came out of each other’s chest.
The clock ticks, the world is about to be destroyed, and nothing is there, except that the near-explosive flesh is entwined by a ferocious beast, the moon rises up and the stars go out, and this audible heavens and earth is turned into a vortex, flying and falling while it sees its soul.
After this moment, the universe, life and everything in the world ceases to have meaning. He lives only here, and he is the king of eternity for this second.
Itch disappears, and the beast breaks out.
Oh, bomb girl.
Three months ago, the bomb girl was at Timon’s table.
When the transfer student was taken to the classroom by the headmaster, Timon was peeking at comic books, hiding his mobile phone under the language textbooks, looking to his left and right every page, covering up the heat of his face and the panic of his heart, and then sitting low and hiding his thighs under the desk.
He’s safe.
Timon sat on the right side of the classroom against the wall, and the seat on the left side was empty, and the headmaster could not see the dead corner at the back of the front door. The teacher rarely comes in early self-study and turns his head, and he’s going to finish the comic before the first class: a story about autistic teenagers and mechanical maids.
His tingling is easing.
This is a serious public school, which strictly prohibits love among high school students.
Timon’s attachment to his class’s members from the very beginning has not been enough. The Learning Commissioner is a short, short-haired, freckle-stained girl who is not pretty enough to know why he likes her.
There was a time when he left school after school every day to play basketball until late hours, when the night came and the classroom was empty, he turned off his electric light and sat on the board, feeling that the blood would pump the hot hormones all over his body, with low, painful satisfaction from the deep bone marrow.
Up in second grade, a couple of good guys started showing off their girlfriends, bragging about how to talk to their girlfriends. Timon understood that some people were lying, but he was still very jealous, and he preferred something to the story of love.
At that point, however, he suddenly lost interest in the study committee, as if the deodorant in the toilet was evaporating, looking at the short, short-haired back, and feeling that the previous year’s dark love was a fool. Moreover, he lost interest in other girls.
Yes, Timon believed that he had a core in his body, which could be the egg of a certain creature, or the seed of a plant, which, with its age, was reaching across all sides, scratching his guts and bones and making him tickle. Perhaps the nuclear nucleus is such a monster that it may swallow itself completely, and Timon often thinks so, and he fears his own thoughts and what he does.
Timon started trying more things. His appearance was a good child, with a moderate academic achievement, with little good or bad performance, and he was reassured by both the school and the parents. Nobody knows what he’s hiding in his room.
Whenever late at night, he used cotton to block the door, put on his headphones and loudly broadcast Death Rock. His itching is becoming more and more difficult, his core is growing, his body has pulsed, filled with blood, septs and scars.
Timon can’t tell anyone about his illness. He was afraid to imagine himself lying open on an anatomy table, in the empty chest cavity, with the kernel stained with blood, and his mother and teacher standing there crying. He was afraid to commit suicide, though he had thought of it more than once. He fears that countless disgusting insects will hatch from the core and bite through the skin. He feared that his cell phone would be confiscated by the class director and that the secrets in it would be exposed to the sun, but he had no choice but to continue.
All of a sudden, there were laughs and whistles in the classroom. Timon felt he had been found, humming in his ears, pushing his cell phone into the books, holding his fist and slowly raising his head. The headmaster was not next to her, but on the podium, where she was standing with a girl.
“This is today’s new transfer from experimental secondary school due to parental mobility. The class director said, “I want to introduce myself. I’m sorry.
People laugh. The girl is wearing a pink school uniform with a low head and a dark hair and a loose head, and only looks in her body, no different from any normal high school girl. But the layered black bandages (not so much as bandages, more like elastic tape, etc.) entangled all the naked places on her, with cheeks, necks, fingers, ankles, without a laceration. A pair of sunglasses blinded the eyes, and when she spoke, the girl was slightly down and looked nowhere — if there were no bandages in the eyes under the sunglasses.
“Get away from me. She said:
There was a moment of silence in the classroom, and there was a bigger laugh. “Cosplay Crazy!” I like it! The students laughed and pulled out their cell phones and took pictures.
The schoolmaster made a hard tap at the podium, saying, “Shut up! Pumbaa, she’s got a disease she can’t get out of the sun. Timon, you stand up. I’m sorry.
In the screams of the classmates, Timon slowly stood up and his heart beats with vines.
“Peng Peng, you sit at an empty seat next to him, far from the window, without sun. The headmaster instructed him to keep order and stop it! Now I’m going to a meeting at the faculty to let me know who’s been bullying Peng Peng, and I’ll call my parents immediately. I’m sorry.
The girls walk down the podium, side by side through several rows of desks, and sit in peace with the eyes and laughter of the class. The schoolmaster left, each of them pointed his cell phone at the transfer student, and the captain was screaming in vain and struggling to pull back the people who were in the vicinity of the transfer student to his seat, and the commotion did not stop until a few minutes later, when the headmaster came in and beat the blackboard with a whip.
Ding was sitting there in a stupendous manner, with a slight twirling of the girl’s side. The bandages were attached to the skin, and the fine contours of the nose and chin were drawn, the sunglasses were wide and the light of the girl ‘ s eyes was covered. The hair slid down, covering the ears and necks of the black bandages, and if the morning light was not on the hair, the girl’s uniform was black above her neck, like the plaster on which she had a complete back.
Timon pumped his nose, didn’t smell anything. Everyone smells. Someone smells of gold-swipe additives. Someone smells like burnt oranges. The girl in the front seat washes her hair every three days, and the day she washes her hair tastes like lemon and then gets greasy. Boys stink, sweat and sneakers stink. The teacher always tasted bitter Chinese medicine.
Tastes are the most characteristic of people, even the human person itself. While the inner core has not grown indiscriminately, the wind that a girl passes through is a plume of medicine, and he takes a deep breath and makes the scent and the stinking gas molecules all over her body.
Girls with black bandages don’t taste like a burnt wood or a marble. No, even the wood and the stones smell of fire and earth, but they’re snuggled and smelling clues in the air. The girls around the shampoo, ink, sneakers, fragrance pens, flowers outside the window, do not exist in the odour world.
The nuclear leap, the scars are broken, the puss come out, the old impulses rise again, filled with deep, deep breaths, hands on the thighs and tight feet.
“Leave me a book. The girl suddenly turned her head and said:
“…what? “…what book? I’m sorry.
“Leave me a book for the first class. I’m not the same. “The girl was facing him, black hair, black sunglasses, black bandages, like shadows in the sun.
“Oh good” Timon grabs the lingo, drops the cell phone in the book and hits loud on the floor.
Many people noticed them, screamed strangely.
Ding’s panicking grip on the girl’s hand and his fingers on the fingertips of the bandages, which were soft and hard, caused the sparks to snap on his skin. He turned his back, picked up his cell phone, looked up and found that the students were looking in their own direction, and his face was not visible in the dark sunglasses.
“Huh. She laughed twice: “What’s your name?” I’m sorry.
“Oh… me? My name is Timon, Dink, full moon. I’m sorry.
Pumbaa. I’m sorry.
“Hello, Pumbaa, welcome to class 42…” Ding was whispering in the eyes of many dramas, reaching out to the right hand.
“Get away from me. I’m sorry.
People around laugh. Peng Peng stopped talking and looked at the language books alone, dingled to the wall and staring blindly at the broken mobile screen.
Every nerve in his body is itching, every scar is bursting, every wrinkle is seeping out of his body fluid, and the nuclei continues to leap, as if the fetus’s heart beats, more vines are growing around, entangling his throat, his stomach, his tongue, making him hard to breathe, his abdominal strangulation, and his tongue dry.
That’s the woman.
Check him out.
That’s the woman.
The black bandaged transition students are the focus of the school, but high school students are more distracted than cats, and in a few days no one will care about Pumbaa’s subject, except to talk about it when they meet in school. Only Timon is watching her in secret, and the more he learns, the more strange she feels, the harder it is to contain her nuclear leap.
Every morning, at 7:15 a.m., a black A6 parked on the corner of the street, and a man in a suit dropped her off, whispering, standing by her car and walking her into the school door. At 5:30 p.m., the Audi would park in the same spot in the same minute, and Pumbaa would open the car with a black bag and drive north-east.
A month later, Black Audi became Red Lexus ES300, and the driver was replaced by a young woman with a sturdy body and manner, but the time of delivery remained unchanged. Timon tried to follow Peng-Peng’s car on an electric vehicle, but the car went on a fast-track road and quickly disappeared into his sights, with no regard for speed cameras.
Pumbaa never goes to the bathroom at school. When she had no friends, the girls went to the bathroom, she mostly watched the books in her seat, and Tim took days to observe and realized that she had not left her seat except for her lunch break.
She doesn’t eat lunch either. During her lunch break, she went alone to the woods behind the school and sat on the bench for an hour.
She does not attend physical education classes, does not perform chemical and biological experiments, does not take part in class work, does not draw blackboards and rarely does work. According to the headmaster, she suffers from a rare and fatal condition and is unable to engage in any physical activity. Timon escaped from a physical education class to sneak back to his classroom and found Peng Peng still sitting in his seat with a half-open book in front of him. At the beginning of the next session, he saw the book not a novel or a comic, but a boring physics textbook.
She is absent for half an hour every afternoon after the first session, knowing that she is going to the school infirmary for some kind of treatment. He found that black bandage in the infirmary in considerable quantities, which appeared to have been thrown into the trash by scissors. He took those bandages home and studied them carefully, thought they smelled of medicine or skin, but even if they were close, they smelled only slightly of disinfectant water — the smell of which belonged to the infirmary.
Not enough. The shiver of joy on the one hand, the nuclear side says to him on the other.
The teacher would not ask Pumbaa to answer the question, as if sitting in the middle of a classroom was really a shadow. She took the test as seriously as anyone else did, and she had a peep at her paper, and there was no answer, but a meaningless slang and graffiti.
She speaks with a downed tail, which is a strange sound quality. She didn’t speak much, but she waited to say “leave me” as a final word. Timon believes that the most frequent object of Pumbaa dialogue is himself. At times, she suddenly raises questions about Timon ‘ s family, interests and sexual orientation, and, as a high school girl, some of her questions are too childish and some of them are shocking. But every time Timon tries to spy on her life, the conversation stops, and Pumbaa suddenly disappears, and he returns to the kind of twilight, solo gesture, and he says no more.
For a month, Timon knew nothing about this girl with the black bandages. He began to feel that Pumbaa had come to this high school as an observer and that she was suspended from the day-to-day life of high school students, such as a projection of a higher-level presence, until that day, when the whole school had been shaken.
Boom! I’m sorry.
In the morning hours of the inter-school hours, students from all over the school were shocked by the news from the school building and stopped dancing and looked back. The windows of one of the four-storey classrooms were smoked and glass fragments slowly fell in the morning sun. Everyone started shooting from their cell phones in their uniforms, and the headmaster shouted in the loudspeaker, “No pictures!” No phone calls! Nobody takes a picture and gets a phone! The headmaster has his own class back in the first and third grades, waiting in the playground for the second grade! I’m sorry.
Seniors 42 sat under the playground tree and watched a rescue train drive into the campus to lift up the ladder and spray the flames. The boys were very excited about the explosion in the class, while Timon looked at that broken window and tried to identify someone behind it. Pumbaa never did inter-curricular work. It must be in the classroom. Is the explosion related to her? Is she hurt? Thinking of this, Timon snuck out of the crowd, went into the middle school school building, squeezed through the door of the balcony tunnel, went down the 20-grade steps and went out the corner of the stairs.
There was water in the hall, and the headmaster, the headmaster and three or four firefighters stood up and said what, and the people with a serious look were surrounded by a small figure, female uniforms, long hair, black bandages.
“…the explosives are not powerful, they should have been detonated in a garbage can near the window, and if the students are still in the classroom, it’s a little dangerous.”
“…thank you so much for the trouble you’re in about this.”
“…this is a protocol, and according to the regulations, it is always necessary to reach out to the public security authorities, after all, for the management of explosives…”
Timon came closer to listening to them. At that point, Pumbaa suddenly turned his head in this direction, and he turned around in the corner of the wall, with his heart pounding, and he did not know if the girl saw him, and his sunglasses covered his sight, but he touched his cheek and felt the invisibility of seeing his skin.
He pulled out, ran up the stairs, went through the roof, stormed the lower secondary school building, mixed into the crowd on the playground and sat down and breathed. It tickles from the core to the limbs.
Why would he run away? The nucleus did not give the answer, but just splattered the tentacles inside him.
One hour later, the headmaster announced that the students of the second and forty-second classes would leave school early and that the other classes would follow their normal course. People were cheering for the hyena towards the bicycle shed, and Timon waited long at the entrance to the school, and did not see the car carrying Peng-Peng, looking up, and there was a flashing inside the broken glass window of the school building, and it was impossible to distinguish between men, women and girls.
During the night, Timon was lying on his bed looking at the contents of his cell phone, thousands of photographs, dozens of videos, and countless pieces of debris that formed the image of a girl with a black bandage. Her side face. Her fine fingers. Her ankle. Her hair. She tied her hair to a black velvet. Her sunglasses. A glimpse of her sunglasses as they tilted. Timon magnified that photograph and captured the colour of the girl’s eyes, which was as black as bandages, but with a reflection of the opposite scene. In the light, there’s about a little plumb. This discovery kept him up for a long time and up all night.
When they arrived in the classroom the following day, the traces of the explosion had been cleaned up, the windows and glass were brand new, and the paints of the walls smelled of snout banana water. In early self-study, the teacher said it was a fire caused by an alcoholic cotton ball abandoned in chemistry class, “I’ll investigate who caused the fire, and I hope that my classmates who did it will take responsibility and report to me. I’m disappointed that class 42 has been blackened by the incident. I’m sorry.
The seat next to Timon is empty, Pumbaa’s first absence. She didn’t come the next day, and so did the third day. On the fourth day, the Lexas car finally docked at the corner of the street on time, and the black bandaged girl went to the school door after saying goodbye to the young woman, hiding behind the press bar, watching the girl walk through the eyes of everyone, like a ghost in the coloured world.
He had a long breath, raised his cell phone to the girl, and in the last few days he felt very scared that the girl with the black bandage would never show up at school again and that if she was lost, the nuclear would collapse and the rotten vines would strangle him, one by one, from inside.
The girl stopped on the cracking phone screen and turned to him. It was only when the real person appeared before her that Din had laid down her phone in a state of shock that she felt the smallness of the bandaged girl and had to bow her head in order to look at her face — the face without face.
“You’ve been following me. Pumbaa asked directly, with that kind of downswing.
“Uh, no, I…” It’s like the first time I ate a pelican.
“Wait for me after school. The girl said she was going to the school building.
Timon stunned for seconds. “What did the Queen Cosplay say to you? Ha ha! I’m sorry.
Timon pushed the boy out after Pumbaa.
“Get away from me. As always, the girl says in cold language.
He stopped in the middle of the playground. The students laughed around.
The day seems to be a long one. At the end of the last class in the afternoon, Ting was sitting on his seat and did not leave the classroom until he had to lock the door after he had completed his day off. The campus is sparsely populated, with a few junior students playing in the playground, with the sun on the west side and a burning cloud. Timon passed through the road between the two buildings, bypassed the water room and headed towards the back door of the school, which was locked to death, with a weed standing nearby. He was stationed in front of the iron door full of oxen, and no black bandaged girl was seen.
“…Peng Peng?” He held his hand on the beating chest and whispered, “I am Timon, have you arrived?” I’m sorry.
“You’re late. A shadow emerges from the shadows of spring blossoms: “Come here. I’m sorry.
Ding stomping on weeds and feeling on a wet cloud. He saw the girl’s body standing next to the abandoned school door, a human shadow branded on the walls.
“Well, I didn’t mean to follow you, but I did.” He stopped and said, “I’m just a little curious, I’m sorry,” and he went further and came to a delicate distance to see the girl’s bandage.
Is it too close? Just reach out and hold each other in your arms. But she didn’t back off, didn’t she? And if it were half a step closer, it would have touched her body if her arms had been moved accidentally… ..the nuclei of Timon’s body had blown off, giving off colorful signals, his eyes had fallen from Pumbaa’s face, he had slightly stopped in her uplifted chest, fell along her black bandaged legs and touched the girl’s fine ankle.
“You want to see everything about me. I’m sorry.
Timon stopped. “No, no, I’m just…” He murmured.
“To be honest. The girl says:
“I’m just a little curious to tell you the truth…” he explained in a panic.
“Bullshit. The girl turned around and walked forward: “You wanted to see me, and everyone was the same.” I’m sorry.
Boom, boom, boom! The nuclear is creating a strong fetal movement. The sound resonates in his brain, his hands are shaking and his fingers are tickling.
“I, I want to see…” heard a distant voice.
“Follow me. I’m sorry.
Pumbaa walks slowly in the bushes and follows the back with stiffness, unable to look away from the girl’s slightly swinging hips.
“Here we go. “and suddenly she stopped and leaned on the wall, signalling a little closer. Tin Man walks past and somehow transcends that delicate distance, with the hair of the girl at the tip of his nose at only 30 centimeters, the sight falling on her curved shoulder, the white shirt of the school uniform with a slightly wide-opened mouth, and the black bandages on the body, which should hide the glamour of the caricature? The nuclei in the body swells, pushing him to do something. He had to do something.
“By the wall. …Look over there. The girl suddenly grabbed his hand and turned his body. Timon didn’t get the touch of the hand, and suddenly there was a red light on the edge of his vision, and he turned his eyeballs and caught the bright flame.
Boom! I’m sorry.
A second later, the shock wave of the explosion pushed him hard on his shoulder and pushed him against the wall. The dead branch and the stone knocked on the back of Timon, and the hot air flow blew out of his pants, and he closed his eyes and screamed.
“Are you afraid?” He heard Pumbaa in his ear saying, “Are you afraid of the waste? I’m sorry.
The cold and glitter right hand grabs his left hand. Dying with his eyes closed, he ran away at Pumbaa’s tow and fall, and he sensed a fire tongue licking his pants and feet, scrambling on the soles of his shoes and kicking his toes to a hard metal, one of his tweaks, and he almost pulled the girl down. He opened his eyes to an alley full of garbage and sewage, two iron doors opened in the back, the walls turned black and the weeds lit fire.
“You did it! “You blew up the window in the classroom.” I saw the principal and the fireman talking to you…”
Then? Pumbaa stood up and looked at him.
“I’m happy! I’m sorry.
“I’m happy!” he says, “I’m happy!” How did you do that? Where did you get the explosives? I’m sorry.
At that time, there was an adult cry from the school, and the security guards were following the blast.
Let’s go! “Peng Peng continues to run with Timon’s hands, and both of them run out of the alleys of garbage, running forward along the remote shades of the forest, turning a corner towards the streets. The streets were full of noises and the voices behind them could not be heard, and it took two people five minutes to breathe against the wall. Peng Peng organized the bandages on his face and took Timon forward, while street walkers cast curious eyes at the girl with the black bandage, who did not care to raise her chest.
Timon feels amazing. He was wearing the school uniform of the school ‘ s most stringent experimental high school, holding the hand of a girl in bandages, blowing up the school ‘ s back door with explosives and walking around the street.
Knock, knock. The little beasts in the nucleus make ecstasy of the baby. Knock, knock. The tentacles and the twigs around his head, strangling his eyeballs, strangling his brains, making his body more itching, and he felt he was hanging up to look at himself in a higher place, and all that was around him became red and blue lines, and the shadows before him were sending out ever stronger light from the dark side, reflecting his pervulsive body, and the nucle in the dirty fluid.
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know where you like to go. I’m sorry.
“You say. I’m sorry.
Timon was surprised to be out of his normal orbit and the black bandaged girl was faced with a completely strange world. He did not know what life was like after she had taken the Audi or the Lexus car, but at least she had never walked on this crowded street, which smelled of barbecue and which she had never seen before, thinking here that Timon felt more itching in his body and felt responsible for the girl, this moment and the world.
“Follow me. * He said aloud, step forward. *
“Where to?”
“Just follow me. I’m sorry.
Timon didn’t know where he was going when he said that. He took her through the Internet cafe, the milk and tea shop, the pool hall, the table bar and the adult goods store, stopped a little bit in front of the hotel, continued, crossed two blocks, crossed a small road, entered a 15-year-old neighbourhood, opened the unit door, climbed five floors, broke the lock and returned to her home. There was a smell of toilet detergent at home, with some watermelon left over from yesterday’s tea table, and a few flies hovering over the spoon, ashamed and excited and hitting Timon’s heart.
“Happy, welcome. He said he suddenly found himself talking stammering: “Happy, welcome, this is my home.” I’m sorry.
Pumbaa walked into the living room without care, sat on the couch, slashed in the sunset, drawing orange red stripes on her dark face. Timon took two bottles of green tea from the fridge and sat next to the girl, dressed as a very hard wrinkled cap, with a black bandage around her head to see him, and the sunglasses showed a young person with a negative light.
“Is your parents not home?” she asked.
“My dad travels all the time, my mom comes back at 6:30. “Dinn’t wrinkled the cap, green tea spilled a pair of pants.
Pumbaa said, “Listen to me. I’m sorry.
Timon says, “Okay. I’m sorry.
Pumbaa said, “I’m a bomb girl. I’m sorry.
“My mother died of haemorrhaging, and the caesarean section was successful, but an explosion blew up all the organs in her belly, and Dad said the umbilical cord turned into a bomb, killing not only her mother, but also four fingers of a gynaecologist. I’m sorry.
“I’ve been wearing black bandages from the beginning of my knowledge, and Dad says it’s called antioxidation membrane, with antioxidation on my inside, and I can’t untangle it 24 hours a day, only when I eat, and when I can see my lips, and when I pee … I have high levels of antioxidant in my nose, mouth and lower body, to prevent changes in the outpouring of air, outing of saliva and urine. The same device is present on the glasses to protect the eyes from exposure to air. I’m sorry.
“Why? Because my body can turn into a bomb. Any living tissue on my body that is exposed to oxygen for more than five minutes will turn into an explosive, a chemical reaction that I do not understand well, but the explosive is very powerful, and at the time of the test, a piece of my skin was turned into an explosive, blowing up 200 kg of oil drums. I’m sorry.
“Dad’s been studying me. He’s a chemist. But even if he didn’t understand my body structure, why I could breathe, eat and excrete and not blow myself to pieces. After the age of 9, he was filled with nitrogen every day in the closed laboratory, and we entered with oxygen masks, unmasked bandages, cleaned his body, and conducted tests and research. I’m sorry.
“My hair, nails and teeth will not turn into explosives, except for which no part is dangerous. I was not allowed to go to school because it could have blown up. Later, the social worker visited the house and his father did not tell him the truth, but merely stated that I was suffering from a rare disease that could not see light. School and social workers have been mobilizing, and I went to school like this, and everyone didn’t like me, and I didn’t like them, and I couldn’t make friends, and I didn’t want to make friends with the sick. One time I handed over a white paper, the teacher yelled at me, and after school I broke the bandages and cut my finger a few drops of blood on the podium, and later the podium and the blackboard were blown up. I’m glad. I’m sorry.
“Dad didn’t say I was taking me to school. When he was cleaning his body at the nitrogen lab he cried and said he was sorry and couldn’t let me live like a normal girl. I said no, I’m fine. It’s hard for me because I’ve been covered in bandages, and I want to tear them off and show them all, but I can’t because I’m a bomb girl. I’m sorry.
“I’ve gone to school four times, and I’ve done it every time by accident, and they think I’ve made explosives, and that’s my own blood, flesh, mouth and tears. I couldn’t stand it until I couldn’t bear it. I didn’t blow anyone up, but they were scared, and Dad started looking at me, and he was watching me at school. After six months of no accident, he decided to transfer me to this high school and to graduate and even to some college. I’m sorry.
“Daddy will come to the school in the afternoon, check me out in the infirmary, refill my skin with new antioxidants. I’m sorry.
“When Dad got married, the woman I didn’t like, I wanted to blow her face up, but she was alert. The school is also boring, everyone is useless, just staring at me and laughing at me, and no one dares to lift up my bandages and look down there. That’s when you showed up. I’m sorry.
“I’ve been watching you since you first followed me. I know you’re a real pervert. You look serious, but you’re full of dirty thoughts. I’m sorry.
“I like people like you. I’m sorry.
“If you want to know, Dad used to say that my 1 gram organization has 100 grams of TNT, and it’s doubled as the organization grows, and one of my hands oxidizes into explosives, and it’s gonna blow up the whole building, if the whole person turns into a bomb and it might blow up the city. I’m sorry.
“I’m not afraid. Are you afraid?”
“I want people to look at my body and think crazy. There’s no one else but you. They’re trash, bugs, scum. They only touch my breasts. They’re curious and afraid of me. I’m sorry.
“Are you afraid?”
“You’re not afraid. I’m sorry.
“I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid! * Ding repeats it three times, with a frenzy *
He had been trying to grab the hand of the girl with the black bandages, but once he had let go, holding hands would become very unorthodox, and his eyes would roll around the girl’s body, from head to shoulder, from waist to ankle. The smell of smoke came out of the window, the sunset was low, the neighbours began to play animated pictures, and the itching of the body could no longer be tolerated.
“Back. “The sound of the key plugged into the lockhole like ice water pours its head, and the youth’s movement stops.
The middle-aged woman with the basket came into the door, wondering about his son and his guests.
“Man, who is this? “The eyes of a woman sweep on a bomb girl, from face to arm, from knee to foot.
“Mom, this is Pumbaa, my classmate. “Dinman whispers. His blood is cooling. He should have remembered the time the mother had come home, but the premise was deliberately forgotten when he brought the girl into the house. He sat there in peace and tried to play a good son.
“Oh, good. Pumbaa, sit down. I’ll get changed. “The woman lays her hand in her arms, moves her slippers into the house and closes the bedroom door. Ding was looking at the girl with the black bandage, who had said nothing and had become accustomed to the strange eyes of others, but was ashamed.
“Drink water, drink water.” He delivered the green tea.
The girl suddenly held him tight. Timon’s heart burst, and every itching nerve ending was burned with electric shocks, the husk of the nucleus burst, and he stretched out his finger, feeling a living creature crawling under his clothes and bandages, jumping against his finger. The noise in the ears is buzzing.
At this moment, a small sound sounded: “Yes, it’s Pumbaa. I’m sorry.
Two people listen to each other, and the voice of the woman ‘ s deliberate low is still quite clear in the noise of the pulse. The bedroom door wasn’t relevant, the middle-aged woman had half her pants off, she had big red pants, she had a phone in her hand, she had a button in her hand, and yes, a black girl, but strangely, my son brought her home. The school explosion may have something to do with the girl. The police are looking for her? She’s in my house. I’m sorry.
She tied her phone to her stomach and said, “Don’t leave your classmates, stay for dinner, I’ll make a red-hot fish!” Then he whispered to the phone listener, “… my house is in the five courtyards to the Yoko District, building 3 2 door 501, come on! I’m sorry.
Timon pulled Pumbaa’s hand out. They left the house, ran down the stairs, ran out of the neighborhood, running along the street where the street lights had just been lit.
“…what did you say? The middle-aged woman hung around, “…the kid had a serious paranoia, thought he could turn into a bomb, so he tied himself up with bandages and went through a lot of psychotherapy. She learned how to make explosives on the Internet, and could make a bomb out of something like a cleaning toilet bought at a convenience store? This is a terrorist! Why don’t you arrest her and let her go to school? You said her father was a big scientist, well-known, well-known, and he couldn’t put a little bomber in my son’s school. She’s too sick, and the psychiatrist thinks it’s easier to get in touch with her age? It’s not an ordinary disease. Paranoia is a psychotic, a psychotic bomber. It’s not a good man to look like it’s dark and not a good man.”
She was so excited that the door was blown and banged and she was scared.
Two people ran out of breath to stop. In the dark, the light of the dark spreads forward, and there are no more high-rises around, except abandoned construction sites, shelters, dirty flats, and muddy vans passing through the road.
Timon pulled Pumbaa down the road, drilled into a holed wire and found a pile of cement pipes at the site. They drilled into a giant cement pipe, took off their uniforms and laid on the floor, sat there and breathed and laughed until they coughed.
The blood is still hot, it doesn’t feel cold, it’s filled with the hand of the bomb girl: “The police are looking for you. I’m sorry.
He said, “Everyone’s looking for you. I’m sorry.
“You’re fucked. Pumbaa said, “You can’t pretend to be a good kid anymore. The police will come to your house, and they’ll turn you over and take pictures of me. I’m sorry.
“I’m not afraid! “Now I’m not afraid of anything, I’m not afraid to die.” I’m sorry.
“But I’m a bomb girl. “Pompon says.
“Just blow me up. What if we blow up the whole city? Timon says, “That’s not true. Nothing in the world is true. I don’t care what happens after what I see now! I’m sorry.
“Do you want to see it?”
“Think. I’m sorry.
The girl opened her hand, the phone fell off and an alarm clock went off: 10 minutes.
Timon’s groaning. He wants to tear, to cut, to break, to destroy, to tear everything to pieces, not his consciousness, but to awaken the beast of the nuclear. But the first thing he did was take the girl’s glasses lightly, so soft that he couldn’t believe it.
As expected, he saw a light brown, wet, beautiful eye with the light of the construction shed. Timon fell down and kissed those eyes. The black bandage was strong, and he had experienced the feeling that it was entangled, but could tear the side of the black bandage from the right angle.
His hands tore from Pumbaa’s neck and he pulled a bandage from his neck. A large set of black bandages fell like snakes, a light glowing on the tip of his finger, and Timon never saw a skin so white, so thin that under the near-transparent skins there were cyanide and red veins, and tiny sweat hair was luminous under the red light.
“Come on. The bomb girl says, “Just ten minutes.” I’m sorry.
Ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding ding d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d d At last, he saw the face of the girl, a face that was white, decent and lacking in character, and in which he could not be fully organized at once, he only branded his pompous nose, his thick lips, his tiny earlids and his picky eyes on the retina. He picked up the girl, and the bomb girl had very flexible muscles, but she did not do anything to resist.
As the black bandages fell, the girl’s body temperature touched the cold of the concrete pipe, and the hot and cold submersible covered his body. His aching, pain, low self-esteem and pride reached their peak at this moment, and he collapsed and his body’s tremors strangled for a second.
Kiss me. The girl says.
The skin was so soft that it touched a line of light red ripples on her lips.
Hold me. The girl says.
She was held in arms and arms until the last breath of air came out of each other ‘ s chest.
The clock ticks and the world is about to be destroyed, and nothing is there, except that the near-explosive flesh is surrounded by a ferocious beast, and the moon rises and the stars fade, and this loud heavens and earth is turned into a vortex, flying and falling while the soul is seen. After this moment, the universe, life and everything in the world ceases to have meaning. He lives here only, and he is the king of eternity for this second.
“Huh…” Bomb girl smiles, her eyebrows tightens and spreads.
Timon rose up and saw truth and vanity through the inner walls of the rough cement pipe.
“Knock. I’m sorry.
It’s completely shattered. And the flames of the flames, and the frowns of the beasts in the fire shivers their wings, and they burn out the stench of blood in his body, the scars of suspense, the dry vines and the tentacles. Let it burn, let it burn. Dinhman’s eyes were filled with the presence of countless humble self, who had vanished from one to the next in flames, and the fire was rising, and the soul was made into a solid and hot gold.
“I’m going to explode. The bomb girl says, “I’m going to explode, one minute, one minute, fifty seconds…”
Timon saw the countdown on his mobile phone, he was not afraid to explode, he was not afraid of the city being destroyed, he was afraid of being separated from the bomb girl for one second, he counted the seconds, and he felt the long and brief time before the last moment of his life.
At the time of the countdown, the bomb girl shouted loudly, with her fingernails piercing deep into his back, and the man in his arms felt so hot, like a sun that turned supernova. And as he rose up, he fell into the climax of madness, and suddenly, in the depths of his consciousness, he created a strange and clear thought.
Does the beast trapped in the core, the spirit that drove him to action, the impulsive masters, the devil in the heart, have a name?
Is that name “love”?
The end–
□ Chang lan
I don’t know.
Keep your eyes on the road.
