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Back to Shanghai again.

Shanghai is no longer that Shanghai.

After all, it is impossible for a person to step into the same Shanghai twice.

Just seven days out.

It seems that life experience has increased by seven percent.

Under the influence of a certain person, my monotonous and peaceful life in the past is undergoing earth-shaking changes.

I don't know why, but as soon as I got off the plane, it was these main theme ideas that popped into my head.

It was as if an invisible reporter was doing an invisible interview with me.

And I told the invisible microphone about my mental journey in the past seven days, feeling the change of seasons, reminiscing about the travel experience, explaining the picture of climbing a mountain with a tall man intimately, denying being involved in a complicated relationship, and being enthusiastic It is inconvenient for netizens to respond to the so-called meeting parents.

Finally, the luggage was waiting at the carousel.

Say goodbye to that invisible reporter.

Wear invisible sunglasses.

A certain person cleared the way and hurried past the enthusiastic crowd holding signs to pick up the plane.

When I came outside to wait for the taxi, the heat wave made me sober, and there were hundreds of people waiting in line for the taxi.

A very natural said back to his home.

I said go back to my house.

We all want to go home.

But I don't want to act separately.

One said: If they live together, there will be no such problems.

Emmm...

Today is October 8th.

I said: My apartment expires at the end of September.

He said: So give me a one-month observation period?

No, I said: a one-month cohabitation cooling-off period.

I have lived in my small apartment for over three years.

Although seeing the lively small block where it was located was demolished into the ruins of only one nail house.

But I still have some affection for it.

A small apartment is a safe retreat for foreigners in this super city.

One cannot easily lose one's apartment.

After such self-hypnosis, I found that I wanted to go home more urgently.

It's as if my apartment, my balcony, and my nail house are calling me.

So I decisively separated from a certain person and got into two taxis.

Two cars, one in front and one behind, drove out of the long corridor of the airport, drove onto the elevated road, and then disappeared into the vast sea of ​​cars.

I leaned against the dirty car seat.

Looking out of the window, I felt some sadness about parting.

I can see him again tomorrow at work, but there is an uncontrollable sadness.

Is it because people who have just fallen in love will have their inner immunity weakened, and it is very easy to hurt the spring and autumn?

I just let myself be half sober and half artificial, from the viaduct, to the bustling street, and then back to my slum, and got off in front of the apartment.

Pushing open the door tiredly, a sultry air rushed towards him, and there was no ventilation for seven days.

First send a message to a certain person, saying that you are home, and then go to the balcony to breathe.

The neighbor seemed not at home at this time. In the sweltering evening, apart from the sound of traffic on the road in the distance, the neighborhood was actually a little lonely. The weeds in the ruins seemed to grow taller and showed signs of turning yellow.

Call home.

It rang several times, and it was my mother who answered.

My mother asked me if the quilt was damp, and when the weather was good, I should hang it to dry, and asked me which local products I brought to be put in the refrigerator.

We rambled on and on for a while, but still nothing really important happened.

Dad seemed to be right next to me, and I could hear his favorite chug-chug shootout on TV, but I didn't hear him speak.

hang up the phone.

It was getting dark.

Had dinner.

The neighbor's balcony is still quiet.

Even the nail houses in the ruins were not lit.

Why is it that when the more you want to rely on the outside world to relieve a little loneliness, the surroundings are so quiet, and even the UP masters you follow are not updated.

I've been doing nothing to the point of looking at Moments.

Seeing a few unfamiliar IDs appearing in Moments, I realized that so many people have been added unknowingly, and they are in such a huge network of relationships.

In the past, I rarely looked at Moments, and Cang Hai never posted on Moments. Otherwise, would I have discovered his relationship with a certain person?

A certain circle of friends posted a photo of my hometown on the mountain, with the text: What did Lin Shen see?

I saw the female supervisor asking where it was below, and there were a few comments guessing what I saw.

I sent a message to a certain person: How did you expose our itinerary back to our hometown during a business trip?

He replied with a rolling Shiba Inu, and said greasy: I am happy.

Ugh, it seems like it's been a while since I said he was greasy.

He sent me another photo of him fresh out of the shower.

I?

He said: You see I have sunburn.

I didn't see it, so I said: You were dressed very tightly when you went up the mountain.

He said: I have long hair.

This is true.However, I think he looks good with long hair.

I lie in bed.

Holding the quilt brought from his home.

Look at the few photos he sent over.

There's also a selfie of him in the mirror that reminds me of the hotel wall mirror that night.

This guy!

I feel that the quilt I am holding is dishonest.

I certainly remember it as a quilt with superpowers.

Though it's been masquerading as a regular quilt for a while now.

But I'm afraid it's time for it to change again tonight.

Why don't you go to bed early.

I cover the quilt cautiously.

on the aircon.

Nervous (full of anticipation).

However, does this count as being sorry for someone?

Well, if it was him in the dream, it wouldn't count.

But what if the dream is someone else?

Just in the middle of my mind, an idea suddenly flashed in my mind.

This quilt belongs to a certain family, so could it be overwhelmed by the sea?

Recalling the first time I dreamed with it covered, what I dreamed was the sea.

The more I think about it, the more I think this is the case.

I grabbed the quilt and smelled it.

Uh, I'm not a Shiba Inu, how could my nose be so sensitive.

The next day.

As soon as I opened my eyes, I quickly lifted the quilt and took a look.

Emmm... dry and dry all night.

It seems that once a scientific (?) explanation is in place, the magic of the quilt is lost.

However, what crooked thoughts can a quilt have? I must be thinking too much.

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