她敲门进来时,我正在写一篇小小说。对,就是你现在看的这篇。我端了杯水给她,对她说,你等等,我快要写完了。她微笑着在沙发上坐了下来,手里握着我递给她的透明的玻璃杯,挺有教养地等着,目光安静地注视着我时而思索时而奋力敲打键盘的样子。其实我的本意想拒绝她进来,告诉她,抱歉,我没有空,正在写作。但那样说,我担心会伤害她,于是话在舌头上就拐了个弯儿。你应该知道,我在撒谎,这篇小小说 When she knocked at the door, I was writing a little novel. Right, this is what you are looking at now. I gave her a glass of water and said to her, “Wait, I’m almost finished.” She smiled and sat down on the couch, holding the transparent glass I handed to her in her hand, waiting quite calmly, gaze at me quietly, contemplating and sometimes struggling to beat the keyboard. In fact, my intention to reject her came in and tell her, sorry, I am not free, is writing. But to say that, I was worried that it would hurt her, and I would turn a corner on my tongue. You should know that I’m lying, this little novel