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2月1日上午,我上班后刚在办公桌前坐定,电话就响了,是省作协创联部阎珊珊主任的声音:马老于昨晚10点半走了……寂静。空气十分凝重。胸中的淤积沉重了我的身体,叫我站不起来,顿时涌到了我的喉咙,让我说不出话来……我缓缓地放下了电话。
On the morning of February 1, I just sat down at my desk after work and the phone rang. It was the voice of Yan Shanshan, director of the provincial Writers’ Association. The old man went silent at 10:30 last night. The air is very dignified. Sinking in my chest has taken a heavy toll on my body and stopped me from standing up. I suddenly threw it into my throat and made me speechless ... I slowly dropped the call.