孤独先生大概是个跟踪狂。第一次见到他时,我还不会说话。妈妈把熟睡的我放在空无一人的卧室大床上,轻手轻脚地掩门出去,孤独先生便蹑手蹑脚地攀上了我的床沿。我在半梦半醒之中潜意识地觉察到了危险,睁开眼睛,看到孤独先生对我勾起嘴角。我盯着他不怀好意的脸,开始放声大哭。在早年的岁月里,孤独先生还不像现在这般肆无忌惮。他只敢在我一个人时出现在我的身边。一个人的周末,我可以赖在床上一整天都不吃饭。隔天中午在饥肠辘辘中醒过来,拉开冰箱门准备做菜。 Mr. Lonely is probably a stalker. When I first met him, I could not speak yet. My mum put me sleeping on the bed of a deserted bedroom, hid the door lightly, and Mr. Solitary climbed my bedside. I subconsciously aware of the danger in my sleep, opened my eyes and saw Mr. Lonely angled at me. I stared at his malicious face, began to burst into tears. In his early years, Mr. Lonely was not as unbridled as he is now. He only dared to be with me when I was alone. Weekends, I can stay in bed for a day without eating. Woke up at noon the next day, opened the refrigerator door ready to cook.