Woman In Irish Linen Shirt

I looked at her with a slight smile: "He bought it?"

"Huh huh." She seemed to be a little proud, "I made up a very long story, you don't want to know, anyway, you are my sister now."

"Sister," I asked her, leaning on the window sill with both hands, "may I know how old you are?"

Miss Pan De blinked: "I will be thirty years old this summer."

"Then your sister came too easy." I had a hunch, but I didn't expect her to be one year younger than me, "I'm older than you."

"How big is it?"

"Anyway, older than you." I laughed, "In what year did you get the doctorate?"

"16 years." She said, "I remember we started working full-time in the same year."

I coughed and coughed, and didn't forget to tease her: "You checked my resume, I know, but we just treat it as common knowledge."

Did she go to school earlier or did she get enough credits early in her undergraduate studies? Can Harvard graduate early?

"It's difficult to tell. I just want to show how much I know you." She stopped her teasing, and before I had any reaction, she said, "I'm sorry I can't stay too long, there will be things next— I bought some things for you. I don’t know if you have allergies, so I bought all the anti-inflammatory drugs with different ingredients in the convenience store. Can I put them here?"

"Of course! Thank you." She was probably able to come over after compressing her schedule for a whole day. I subconsciously wanted to greet her. I just took a step, stopped again, looked at her awkwardly, and finally laughed.

The wind whispered behind her, and she looked back at me with gentle eyes.

"You give me the **** and I will take it down." Miss Pande gave me no room to refuse, and then said, "If you need anything, you can call me, okay? I will arrange it."

"Uh, good." I don't know how to answer this sentence, "You just stand there, don't move."

I went to the bathroom against the wall and took the trash, stuffed it into the kitchen trash bag, and put it on a layer to make it solid, then placed it in a conspicuous place, and re-attached the wall and walked back to the window. It's a little troublesome to do this with gloves. My fingertips were entangled in plastic bags, and I almost came off several times. I wonder if she will wait impatiently?

Touching the window, I took a breath and said, "Go get it, but you must wash your hands carefully afterwards, and promise me."

Miss Pande kept looking at me while I was talking, and I was a little bit embarrassed.

Don't she really treat me as her sister, right?

But I recalled the scene when I first met. Wasn't she so kind that night when she waited for me to check out and walked together? Maybe this is why she can be a partner. She has both talents and advantages in buying people's minds, and she must have done no harm in the past.

Will there be an exception today?

I forced myself not to think too much, but it didn't help at all. I was at a loss and couldn't say anything more, so I could only watch her pick up the trash. When passing by the living room, she suddenly said, "The perfect refrigerator."

Miss Pan De did not look at me when she spoke.

I stayed by the window alone, feeling hot, looking at the closed door, and stood for a while.

There are two old Huang's missed messages on the phone, and there are more than ten messages of condolences. Originally, I wanted to reply in a unified manner, but felt that it was wrong, so I went back one by one, and turned over the old Huang's news again. Those who know me are also Huang Xiuwen. Except for the two begging "greetings" messages of "Are you still alive? Don't work overtime" and "You are so cunning, why don't you join this meeting", the long list is all about the briefings of yesterday's meeting.

Our efforts are nothing more than a man’s arm as a car, and the framework was finalized at the meeting.

I told them what the big boss meant. The opposition here is not as fierce as last week; naturally there will be no one to turn the tide on Kevin, and everything will roll according to BCG's will. Even though I knew the result in advance and the briefing was in front of my eyes, I still felt that I had lost the battle, and I couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Lao Huang called directly. It should have just finished the meeting. I tried to beat me and said that I was fine. He still owed it a lot, but before hanging up the phone, he repeatedly emphasized two or three times. If there is any need, I must tell him.

I really have a lot of things here, the food has bottomed out, and the appointment for nucleic acid testing will take some time. But Lao Huang was infected by me and fell ill. It doesn't matter-what should I do if the sickness brings his sister-in-law? There are two children in his family, and I never considered asking him for help at the beginning.

Think of those dead-end households in ancient times. Life is hard. I live in a modern metropolis where everything is convenient. As long as I can take care of myself, there won't be too many problems.

I didn't reply to the news of one person alone. It wasn't until I got out of the shower and changed my clothes to feel calmer, so I replied to her, "Thank you for coming here today. See you at the meeting on Thursday."

The alienation in wording is deliberately caused by me. I think this is better, with a degree of advancement and retreat.

There are not many clinics with the SASH logo nearby, and the tests are only done in the morning. I have to ask for leave tomorrow morning. Soon after I started to process the documents in the afternoon, the boss caught me and ordered me not to work. I couldn't reply to the email. I was doing nothing by the window, and the Kindle was at hand, so I picked up the book I bought before and read it.

Miss Pan De has good taste. "The God of Micro Things" was a stunning work in the year when it was awarded. The literature from suffering often implies a true and heavy history. Reading it from my family, there is always a sense of absurdity that a third party exposes the ugly of the house; like For an outsider like me, the perspective is always inseparable from the curiosity. I have hardly read English novels by Orientals. Out of prejudice, I think it was written for outsiders.

Even for me, this book is cruel. Since the real pain in life, if it is not for academic needs, I have never read purely literary novels. In addition, I later chose engineering. The last time I read serious literature was in 2011, which was Faulkner's "When I'm Dying." At that time, I had just arrived in Cambridge looking for a house, and I was busy and idle.

There are so many details in "The God of Micro Things", forcing you to admit the truth and forcing you to face the truth. As long as you turn the pages of the book, the pain will resonate. Miss Pande is still of Indian descent, and her national culture must be as inseparable as it is flowing in her blood. How can she see it? Read without a trace of emotion?

This is too difficult for me to imagine.

Is her homeland as in the book?

Until the evening, the message I sent to Miss Pan De did not turn into a double blue tick. She must be still busy, came to visit me at noon today, maybe she sacrificed lunch. I actually wanted to say something to her, but I couldn't think of a word.

Why did she come here?

The refrigerator is completely empty. I was reluctant to go out, so I added a tip to the Green Knight and asked someone to buy food and daily necessities for the next two weeks and deliver it to the apartment lobby, and asked the administrator to deliver it to the door. When picking up something, I found a post-it note stuck on the outside of the bag, which read:

"Come on! Everything will get better and better!"

I now reasonably suspect that Miss Pan De has compiled something remarkable for me.

I was preparing to be quarantined at night. The first is my clothes. Suits and trousers are almost all worsted wool. It is difficult to imagine what they will become after disinfection. This must be handled in advance; the computer must be brought, and a pair must be bought as soon as possible. The Bluetooth headset makes it convenient for me to have a meeting while having an infusion. I checked the symptoms on the Internet again, and the online consultation was the deadliest. I gave up after reading two articles.

I still tend to be the flu. The characteristics are more consistent, and I am almost better now, and I have no symptoms of pneumonia. But the incubation period of the flu is so short. I haven't left the apartment in the past two weeks, so I have thrown out **** and went to the corridor several times. I also put on a mask: I won't blow the air on the balcony and hit my luck, right?

The feeling of limpness and pain in my body has not subsided. At this moment, because my mind is so clear, I start to feel homesick uncontrollably—

At this time, the plastic bag brought by Miss Pande rescued me.

The bag has been on the coffee table all day. I deliberately didn't look it up, I really don't know how to face it. Now it seems that there is nothing terrible: just like Miss Pan De said, it contains several anti-inflammatory drugs with different ingredients, and there are also boxes of fruits.

It's kiwi.

I could not understand.

Because there are so many Chinese here, in addition to sending flowers, it is very common to visit patients with milk, red envelopes and so on. In general, there are many varieties in the fruit basket, but there are few kiwis, most of which are melons. After all, cheap fruit is not suitable as a gift. Kiwi fruit is perishable, and the risk is relatively high. It is natural that the appearance rate is low.

Her medicine should be bought in the convenience store on the plastic bag. They don't have any fruit. Kiwi must be bought extra.

I hesitated to send a message to the boss: "Does Indians have a tradition of buying kiwis for patients?"

The news came quickly: "No. Did you see it in stand-up comedy?"

I said: "I received the kiwi."

Rudra: "You can find a stand-up comedy on Netflix while eating. Relax, your body and your head are both."

My body and head are very relaxed, thank you.

But when I actually typed, I wrote: "Sonia came to see me today. She gave me the kiwi."

The boss returned me in all capitals: "Relax. Don't work."

I expressed my gratitude. At least with the help of the boss, I know this is not a cultural habit.

This is too difficult to understand. Maybe it’s because when I asked for leave, I said I might have a cold, and kiwi is rich in vitamin C? Maybe she bought kiwis the day before: But the packaging label says April 21, 2020, which is today-that is, she wants to eat kiwis at noon, and bought me by the way-even more unlikely, kiwis taste very bad Convenient, her schedule is non-stop, where does this work come from.

Even on the way, this box of fruit must have been specially bought by her. but…

Why is kiwi fruit?