我记得在搬家之前,楼上住着一个老奶奶,白皙,清瘦,高挑,虽然很老了,但依然可以觉察出她的美。她有时也会随着老伴到爷爷那里玩,可不知哪一天突然就生疏了。大概是在老伴死后,她就天天站在楼下看着东西出神,大人们都说她神经不好了。她家阳台上那株殷红的君子兰也孤单地开着,一如孤独的她。 I remember before moving, upstairs lived a grandmother, white, thin, tall, though very old, but still can be aware of her beauty. Sometimes she will play with my grandfather, but I do not know which day suddenly became strange. Probably after her husband died, she looked downstairs and looked at things every day, and adults said she was in poor health. The reddish Clivia on her balcony was alone, just as lonely.