一那个男人,嘴唇上的胡须像一把滚刷。他站在我的身旁,已经抽了三根烟。我们面对着窗外。纱窗在距离窗台半尺高的地方破了一个铜钱大的洞。他用两根手指捏着烟头,弹出去了。我想象烟头翻滚着坠落的样子,风呼呼地往我脸上吹。你说,产房凭什么要在九层?男人忽然间扭过头来,目光凶巴巴的,他把眼睛瞪起来了。他穿着一件油津津的军大衣。不知道。我说。我躲避着男人的目光。我感到了冷。或者,害怕了。我往过道里侧走,他的目光尾随着我。有一瞬间,我感觉一股冷嗖嗖的虚空的力量正从我的后背穿越到前胸。走廊里侧更像是一个阴暗的客厅。两扇白色的门还在隐隐约约晃动着。门的上边镶嵌着磨砂玻璃, That man, his beard on his lips like a roller brush. He stood beside me and smoked three cigarettes. We face the window. Screen window in the distance from the windowsill half a place broke a big hole in coins. He pinched the butt with two fingers and popped out. I imagined how the cigarette butts tumbled and crashed into my face. You say, why the maternity ward should be on the ninth floor? Man suddenly turned his head, fierce eyes, he stared. He wore an oil Jinjin military coat. do not know. I said. I evaded the man’s eyes. I feel cold. Or, scared. I walked to the side of the road, his eyes followed me. For a moment, I felt a cold wind force is flowing from my back to the chest. The corridor is more like a dark living room. Two white doors still vaguely shaking. The top of the door inlaid with frosted glass,