濛濛的暮色曳曳地拖弄着纤软的影子,窗棂之间,阳光悠悠斜斜地砌成一个薄如蝉翼的斜面,88个琴键浸润在阳光里,我咧着嘴,快活地弹着舞曲。“吱”,门开的声音。琴声戛然而止。“爸!”“唔。”“回来了?”妈从厨房里探出半个身子。“唔。”爸是个不善言辞也不善隐瞒的人,我和妈一眼就看出他的不悦:他眉宇之间蹙集着阴云,嘴像那开口向下的抛物线,声音也是硬生生地迸出来的。“怎么了?”妈含笑着问。“调动了……”“调到哪儿了?”“粮食局……”我知趣地走开,感到身后是一片压抑的沉默。“没事的……”这是妈的声音。他们之后的谈话被琴声淹没。待到夕阳这个守财奴敛起他最后一块碎金,黑色也吞噬了小小的琴房。妈开了灯,整个 The darkness of the hustle and bustle drags the slender shadows between the windows. The sun slanting diagonally builds a thin beveled bevel, 88 keys drenched in the sun, I pouted, danced happily. . “Oh,” the door opened. The sound of the piano stopped short. “Dad!” “Yeah.” “Back?” Mom leaned out of the kitchen half body. “Hey.” Dad was a poor man who was not good at concealing words. My mother and I saw his displeasure at first glance: his dark clouds between his eyebrows, his mouth like the parabola that opened downwards, and his voice was also hard to find. from. “What’s wrong?” Mom asked with a smile. “Responsible...” “Tune to where?” “Food Bureau...” I walked away knowingly and felt a depressing silence behind me. “It’s okay...” This is Mom’s voice. The conversations after them were drowned by the sound of the piano. Until the sunset, the miser picked up his last piece of broken gold, and black devoured the little piano room. Mom opened the lights, the whole