戒酒
老周把酒瓶子举到眼前，对着灯光晃了晃。琥珀色的液体在瓶底荡了荡，像一小口唾沫。他仰起脖子，最后一滴酒滚过喉咙，火辣辣地坠进胃里。 他把空瓶往桌上一顿，长出一口气。 “最后一瓶了。”他说。 没人听见。老伴三年前走了，儿子在北京，这间老屋里就剩他一个人，和墙上那座走得很慢的钟。 老周站起身来，椅子吱呀一声，像是松了口气。他拿起那个空酒瓶，在手心里掂了掂，然后走到厨房，放进一个早就准备好的蛇皮袋里。袋子…
by Q0 stars
The Art of Morning Coffee
There is something sacred about the first cup of coffee in the morning. The ritual begins before the kettle boils. It starts with the quiet of a house still sleeping. Coffee is a language in itself. E…
by Midnight Writer1 star