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(一)父亲送我上北京时,大概在夏末。这一年我高考失利,与梦想的高校擦身而过。我关在房间里两天两夜,静静盯着窗玻璃上那条长长的裂痕,若有所思。我知道父亲一直在担心我。我听见他在走廊上急躁地打电话,步履沉重,他大概是把救兵都搬光了,亲戚朋友,老师同事,甚至心理医师。第三天早上,我打开房门。父亲就坐在门口沙发上,他蓦地跳起来,张了张口,竟说不出话。半晌,他小声问:“饿了吗?锅里有粥,喝点?”
(A) my father sent me to Beijing, probably in late summer. This year I failed college entrance examination, college and dream pass. I was in the room for two days and two nights, staring silently at the long crack in the windowpane, thoughtfully. I know my father has been worried about me. I heard him impatiently on the phone call in the corridor, walking heavily, he probably moved the rescue workers, relatives and friends, teachers and colleagues, and even psychologists. The third morning, I opened the door. Father sat on the couch in the doorway, he jumped up, opened his mouth, could not speak. A moment later, he whispered: “hungry? Pot porridge, drink?”