I was sitting in a cafe on the corner, waiting for a woman.
I have known her for twenty years, and she wears that red trench coat every time I date, oh hell, every time. When she was cooking, she would gently hum the song "Perfect Life", yes, every time. When she finishes the shower, she must wear a pink silk dress with suspenders. When she wanted to have sex, she would cling to my neck and say "Baby, should we do something?" When
I think of this, I can't burn any passion anymore.
She must be wearing that red windbreaker at the moment, her fingers tracing each railing unconsciously, her face filled with an ignorant and contented smile.
You see, even if I'm not by her side now, I can know what she is doing and thinking.
Of course, you can say that this is a tacit understanding, but I never want to live such a lifeless life again! I don't want to, I don't want to, I don't want to!
So, I asked her to be in this cafe where we have passed countless times but never visited. I want to tell her that we must divorce.
"Squeak", the door opened, and the rhythmic sound of high heels knocked on the floor, "Da-DaDa", she always walked in this unique rhythm, with a firm foot, a little hesitation, and then two quick steps. I turned around, and sure enough, it was her-my wife who had been married for 15 years.
She was wearing that red windbreaker, big red, sitting in the dark cafe, shocked. I don't know why she loves this trench coat so much. Maybe it's making her fairer? Or is it to conceal the skin that is gradually no longer ruddy?
Her smile is like a kind old man, as if looking at a child who has made mistakes. Is she saying, "My dear, I can tolerate everything about you"?
Do you think I won't tell you about divorce this way? No, I have made up my mind. Don't use family affection to squeeze me, don't even think about it!
She ordered a cup of coffee, like mine, black coffee, pure. This is her habit of following me to change, in fact, why bother to follow me to change it?
Wait, I should think about how to speak. After 20 years of relationship, I don't want to hurt her either.
I looked up at her, thinking about how to make her understand that this marriage was irretrievable.
However, she actually cried. I haven't said anything yet, why is she crying? My God, she was so sad crying, why on earth? What should I do like this? Does she also know that I am going to divorce? Impossible, she is always so ignorant and so happy.
Then, she took out a piece of paper from her bag, which was a medical certificate from the hospital. I hesitated to take it, and looked at it carefully, with an indeterminate premonition in my heart.
"This morning, the doctor said, I have liver cancer and I have about a year to live." She said vaguely while crying.
This sentence completely changed the direction of the original intention of this appointment. I seem to hear countless metal-like voices around me roaring at me: "You should take responsibility!"
I did the same.
I hugged her back home, hid in the toilet and sent a text message to my lover "Please forget me!"
Every day, I accompany her to buy food and cook, listen to her humming "Perfect Life", and gently embrace her from behind. Kiss her neck. Every day, I fed her medicine, coaxed her to sleep, and said "I love you" to her. Every day, I send her flowers and accompany her to walk the dog in the park. Every weekend, I take her to the newly opened restaurants to taste delicious food, and let each restaurant give her a red rose.
I play a man who is drunk in love. In the process, I felt love again.
A year later, she died in my arms. Her face is peaceful and happy, her body is gradually cold, and my heart is also cold.
She is gone, and can no longer see her humming songs and gently swinging her body amorously. I stroked the red windbreaker, moved my fingers down inch by inch, crying uncontrollably.
Many years later, when I was walking on the street, I suddenly saw a bright red color in the crowd in front of me. I couldn't help catching up, but she was always a step away from me.
Finally, I could only stand on the corner of the street, looking at the scenery without red, inexplicable loss and sorrow filled my heart.
This is a novel adapted from a fragment in "Paris I Love You". I like "I play a man who is intoxicated with love. In the process, I feel love again." This sentence.
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