Chapter 24 Ghosts who don't know whether they are alive or dead?

People live as if they are dead, and some people die but are as busy as alive. Where do you say this?

I have a guest who is relatively petty, probably an office worker. Since the second day of my opening, I have been drinking tea and reading books at noon every day. If you come too much, you can say a few words. He usually brings his own tea and we can help make them. Always take a computer and quietly write some compassionate poems and songs.

Sometimes I chatted with him. Sometimes, I couldn't stand the words and satirized him as a sour scholar, but I didn't see him for a week. It's stingy.

I saw him again. It was raining, and there were no guests in the store at noon, so I asked the black ticket to guard the bar, and I found a quiet sofa to sleep. The little girl seems to like to be tired of being with black tickets. She always likes to ask questions, but obviously one is intentional and ruthless.

The store is very quiet, and the door has been closed because it is raining outside so that the ground of the store will not get wet by the rain. Occasionally, there are whispers from two young people. Everything is so comfortable that I close my eyes and refresh myself.

Suddenly, there was a shadow on my face. I opened my eyes and saw that it was the sour petty bourgeoisie.

He looks wet, and it's inevitable that it will rain outside.

"What would you like to drink?" I reluctantly got up.

"Coffee." He lowered his head and looked very bad.

"Black ticket, a cup of coffee." He stretched out his hand and said hello to the black ticket in the bar and was ready to change places to continue to sleep.

"Don't go, I'm scared." He pleaded, his eyes full of blood.

I couldn't help sitting back.

"Today when I went home, a man suddenly fell from the upstairs, right in front of me, close to me." His eyes were empty and seemed to recall.

I know that feeling. When I was in high school, a roommate went back to the dormitory without a key, but climbed over the balcony of another dormitory and fell down. I guess it was rotten. The blood slowly penetrated out and penetrated into the soil. When the body was pulled away, part of the face was mixed with the soil, and the part of the soil had to be dug up and taken away.

When I heard him today, it reminded me of that bad experience.

"I didn't scare you, did I? I'm leaving." He got up and left. I stopped him and said, "Wait, the coffee is almost ready."

"Black ticket, have you had enough of it? Where's the coffee?" Call for black tickets at the bar.

"Here it comes." The black ticket was put in front of me with a cup of coffee. "If you want to drink urgently, you are not a guest."

"What did you say?" I said strangely.

There is no one opposite.

"Has anyone come in?" I asked for a black ticket.

"No, it's up to you in a daze." The black ticket replied strangely.

"Oh" Looking at the coffee in front of me, I took a sip of bitterness.

The next day's newspaper had a large headline saying that a white-collar worker of a foreign company committed suicide by jumping off a building for unknown reasons. That face is his face.

When it was closed that night, he came again. He sat on my bar and said that everyone ignored him. When he came home, he saw his parents holding his photo and crying, telling them not to agree. He was leaving. This was so weird. He talked about a lot of things and left.

I haven't seen it since then. Maybe he is still wandering there, thinking that he is still alive.