我竖起耳朵听着外面的声响。有时候安静得出奇。老鼠在天花板夹层奔跑,夜里到处磨牙,将木头啃出了白骨,像是要为祖传的老屋翻新。父亲那天出门就没再回来。我在家里呆了三天,吃完了最后一枚鸡蛋,扯秃了后院的小菜地。正无计可施,邻居敲响木窗,说公园里表演杀人比赛,把你爹当靶子砍了。 I raised my ears and listened to the sound outside. Quiet sometimes surprisingly. Mice ran in the mezzanine floor, moistened around the night, gnawing wood out of the bones, as if refurbished for ancestral old houses. Father did not come back that day to go out. I stayed at home for three days, finished the last egg, bald the backyard of small dishes. Is doing nothing, the neighbor ring wooden windows, said the park murder show, cut off your father when the target cut.