晚上九点半。一盏台灯,一摞作业。一小株含羞草待在我手边,静静观望。我在书桌前埋头奋战。又用完了一张草稿纸,得出的结果与正确答案似乎仍大相庭径。时钟的指针滴答滴答,我内心的烦躁像暴雨前的密云般越聚越多,翻涌冲撞着,急切地想寻找一个出口。偏偏周遭一片沉闷的寂静,无声而强硬地与我的情绪对抗。不自觉中,手中的笔已经在草稿纸上狠狠划下几道。焦灼的情绪终于有些许的减轻。我伸手去够一张新的草稿纸,手臂无 Nine thirty in the evening. A lamp, a pile of homework. A small mimosa to be at my side, quietly wait and see. I am working hard at the desk. And ran out of a scratch paper, the result and the correct answer seems to be quite different. Clock ticking ticking, my heart restlessness like the more dense clouds before the storm, the more the more crashed into the collision, eager to find an exit. However, surrounded by a dull silence, silent and tough with my emotions. Unconsciously, the pen in the hand has severely drawn a few drafts of paper. Anxious mood finally a slight relief. I reach for a new scratch paper without arms