女刺客大清早就来了,把暗器甩在我脸上,我都没来得及看清她是谁。公司的广播还没结束,正在唱着最炫民族风。同事们都停下手里的活定在那儿了。我的鼻子中招了,鼻梁骨火辣辣的疼,酸楚劲让人没法没法的,就像人生中那些没法回避的事实。它像芥末一样直冲头顶,但并不通透,而是迂回、盘旋、下降、往复,最要命的是它比芥末更狠,眼泪违背我的意愿夺眶而出,我的心都碎了。还有一款乳白色的忧伤,有着塑料一样的质感,和我的脑神经碰撞,就像暗器又一次打中了我 The assassin came early in the morning, throwing the hidden weapon on my face, I have not had time to see who she is. The company’s broadcast is not over, is singing the most dazzling ethnic style. My colleagues stopped their lives and set them there. My nose trick, nose bones hot ache, sour people can not lawsuit, just like life can not avoid the fact that. It straight as overhead mustard, but not transparent, but rather circuitous, circling, descending, reciprocating, the most terrible is that it is more ruthless than mustard, tears against my will, my heart is broken. There is also a milky grief, a plastic texture, and my brain collide, as the hidden weapon hit me again