I don't remember how many times this is the first time I came to this bridge, but the melancholy eyes seemed to reveal that this time was different from the previous time. After killing someone not long ago, he just opened the door and walked out when he was hit by the piano girl in the bar. She saw the handsome and cold face under the top hat clearly. Even when he was completely seen, Jeff was still expressionless, like countless nights in the past, maybe he knew that he would not be betrayed by her through eye contact with the piano girl for a moment. Jeff, standing by the bridge, may be wondering if there are other flaws in the killing process just now, or he may be waiting for the time to return to his girlfriend's apartment, or he may just want to habitually blow the air after the murder. In the distance at this time, a white car was quietly parked on the bank of the river, which looked particularly eye-catching in the dark night. I wonder if this car caught Jeff's attention?
As an excellent professional killer, I don’t think he would fail to notice the whiteness that contrasts sharply with the dark night, just like he noticed a strange woman driving side by side a few hours ago. At that time, Jeff had just stolen a car under the nose of the police, drove it happily on the road, and approached his goal tonight step by step. While waiting for the green light at the intersection, a waiting car was also parked in the parallel lane on the left. The driver was a woman, and she could be seen smiling at herself through the rain-washed glass. If Jeff was not a killer, would this be just a simple encounter? But he couldn't trust others, and he hardly had any communication with others. Only Jane who admired him and the car repair man who provided him with murderous props could be called friends or acquaintances. Therefore, Jeff must not feel that this is just an encounter. Perhaps at this moment, he has already felt that he is being watched by something, which is called fate.
Fate is such a wonderful thing. In many cases, no matter how hard you struggle, how hard you work hard, it is all in vain. Just like the bird in the cage in Jeff's house, instead of struggling to run into a wall in the cage, it is fortunate to respect the arrangements of fate. How unfortunate is the bird, his every move is completely exposed, and he can't help himself in life or death; how lucky he is, at least he is content with the status quo, and will not be struggling with death because of unknown setbacks. Just as Jeff controls the fate of this bird, unknown power controls Jeff's destiny, just a known and an unknown. Recalling the last time Jeff left the residence, his eyes stayed on the cage many times, and before he was about to open the door, he glanced back at the bird in the cage. The brim of the hat just covered the upper half of his face. The look in his eyes, at this time, he already knew that he would not come back again. When Jeff stepped into the bar again, he simply deliberately dropped the number plate on the counter, skillfully put on white gloves under the eyes of the bartender who recognized him, and even when the piano girl asked him why he wanted this, he still stubbornly took it. The empty pistol that I had prepared for a long time was just because "someone paid me to do it", so the black profession of the killer was so open. Maybe this is life, just like the cold "April 4th, Saturday, 6pm" appeared, Jeff's life has entered the countdown, no matter how hard you struggle, it will always come to the final end. When your destiny is set, are you ready to accept it? In the world we live in, would there be a car parked in a dark corner and quietly admiring everything that happened to us? Is there such a moment that makes us feel that we cannot break free from the fate of fate? Everything about ourselves is like a script arranged by others. We are powerless to change what happens at a certain time. We are just puppets in the hands of others.
Maybe he noticed the car, but just treated it as an ordinary car parked by the river. Who would park a car by the river for no reason? I guess his owner should be a drunkard. Now he is drinking in a bar, and the drinkers next to him are chatting and drinking. Working late every day, I should find a place to relax. Such a bar should be very noisy. It is best to shout out the accumulated pressure hysterically. Maybe it's a quiet bar, like a place where a piano girl works, chatting endlessly with friends, where to go today, the movie recently released, or even which restaurant cooks better food. Just talk about some insignificant things, stay away from the chaotic world temporarily, and not think about what you should do next second. This is not a relief. It's rare to be able to imagine endlessly. This kind of scene is like a train of slow cars driving in the wilderness. The weather is best to be sunny and you can clearly see the surrounding scenery. Occasionally passing by a farmhouse, if it happens to be late in the evening, you will be lucky to see the smoke rising, will the old man who burnt the fire have the same wrinkles as my grandma, and will he be surrounded by his own children with a smile on his face. That was more than ten years ago, every time I went back to my grandma’s house with my mother, I would always run to my grandma and let her make egg pancakes. At first it was because of gluttony, but then it became a habit. Every time my grandma would gladly agree. . My grandma’s kitchen uses an old-fashioned pot. I use the picked leaves and branches to burn the fire. I like to sit next to my grandma, handing her branches one by one. Grandma didn't say much, and her kind face revealed infinite love and compassion. Every time a meal is prepared, the smell of rice and smoke will envelope the entire kitchen. The smoke filled with the smell of egg pancakes is the most deep impression of my childhood. I don’t know why I suddenly can’t remember those afternoons when I left my grandma’s house, but I clearly remember the whole process of cooking. Maybe time will fade away the bitterness of parting, but the dots of happiness become clearer and clearer, just like suddenly One day I knew that I would never see my grandma. What I thought of was not sadness, but gratitude. I was grateful for the kind smiles that brought me happiness. This kind of smile slowly turned into a film in my memory, and a pair hangs in my heart. Beautiful view.
This kind of life must not belong to Jeff, he is reticent and doesn't trust anyone, even the woman closest to him. Why don't we trust a person? Was he deceived? Or the erratic look in his eyes when he talks to you? Or is it just because the frequency of his walking and lifting his feet makes you feel awkward? No matter what the reason, once this kind of distrust occurs, no matter how much effort is made, it cannot be undone and cannot be changed. Jeff didn’t trust Jane from beginning to end. He would only think of her when he needed her. He wouldn’t say a word to her. Even if Jane lied to cover him in front of the police, he wouldn’t get a word of thanks. if. When Jane said to Jeff, "I like the feeling of being needed by you", did Jeff make any waves?
If he didn't pay attention to the parked car at all, he didn't think about the meaning behind the woman's smile. Under the meticulous hat is an indifferent, ruthless face. The thick windbreaker isolates oneself from the world. His lonely personality also makes oneself seem incompatible with the world in which he lives. ", he perfectly interprets the life of "not stuck in things, not chaotic in emotions". Birds in the room screamed, and the rain outside the window was a little bit, lying on the bed quietly, smoking a cigarette leisurely, and the smoke leisurely hovering in the middle of the house, which was clearly visible under the light coming in through the window. . It was raining outside the house, and the world became quiet and leisurely. This kind of world does not need to be concealed under a hat or wrapped in a windbreaker, and there is no need to worry about sudden visitors disturbing this leisurely comfort. This man doesn't care about the unfamiliar female driver's secret love to him, he doesn't care about his girlfriend's sacrifice for him, or even his life or death. How could he be interested in a car for no reason. He should only care about his goals, just like a cheetah on the grassland has only his own prey in the eyes.
How easy our lives are to be swayed by insignificant things, how easily we are dragged down by the world, so that the pointers of strangers will make people forget how to choose. It would be more appropriate to compare life to traveling alone. When there are two paths in front of us, the person who tells you which way to go will not be responsible for your choice. All choices will ultimately have to be paid for by themselves. Then why don't we simply plug our ears?
Someone once kindly reminded me not to provoke bees, it would be very painful to be stung by them. At the beginning, I couldn't understand how such a cute little thing could cause harm to people. The tender yellow skin, swollen belly, and naive head make people want to touch it. In the end, I paid the price for my curiosity. However, if you have not been stung by a bee, how can you know that a bee will sting and hurt people? Sometimes women are like bees, with a stinging bee sting hidden behind their glamorous appearance. Jeff must have been stung by a woman before turning his face away when the female driver smiles at him, he is extremely indifferent to Jane’s enthusiasm, and he thinks "someone asked you to do this after the piano girl didn’t identify him." ". I always believe that those famous sayings about avoiding detours are a lie in themselves. A wrong attempt is a rare experience. The scenery seen on detours will not be forgotten. The fact that bees sting people can only be completely believed after a real attempt. .
Why am I struggling with something that has no results and no meaning? Whether it was fate or accident, the car stopped there quietly, and Jeff, quietly walking towards the known death.
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