墙上的斑点
· 4 min read
Lao Li retired, and his days suddenly felt as empty as a freshly washed porcelain bowl, so empty you could see your reflection in it.
His wife passed away the year before last, and his son was abroad, rarely returning even once a year. Lao Li was alone, guarding an old two-bedroom apartment, counting the spots on the wall to pass the time.