天刚发白,心里的期盼准时推开老正沉重的眼皮,他欠起身从窗口望出去,天蓝得潮乎乎的,星星像密密麻麻的露珠子。老正自言自语,二十五天什么动静都没有,今天该来电话了吧。他扯下牵着插座的手机,拿起门背后的竹竿走出屋外。院子里,高大的核桃树还看不清枝丫,厚厚的枝叶乱作一团张牙舞爪似的浓黑,边缘顶了一线曲曲折折的朦胧天光。老正要把手机挂到核桃树上去。他担心露水打湿手机,踮起脚, Days just white, my heart’s hope to push the old eyelids on time punctuated, he owed up and looked out from the window, sky blue and tide, the stars like dense dew beads. Old are talking to me, what is not moving twenty-five days, the call it today. He pulled off the phone holding the socket and picked up the bamboo stick behind the door to get out of the house. The yard, the tall walnut tree still can not see the branches, thick branches and leaves for a bunch of claws like thick black, the edge of the top line twists and turns of the dim sky. The old is going to hang the phone to the walnut tree. He worried about dew wet cell phone, tiptoe,