Chapter 344

After a long period of time, Hoffa did not appear in front of anyone. After a friendly separation from Miller in London, he disappeared in England with aglia.

After their first day together, life fell into a simple mode of travel. They eat breakfast in the street market. The cement platform of the stall is as smooth as polished marble. After eating, they read the newspaper beside the stall. In the intersection of sweet orange and light tea, the sun is very warm.

In the morning, they went to the seaside to swim and play in the water together until the sun drove them back to the hotel's cool room isolated from the outside world. They were sleeping in the slowly rotating wooden ceiling fan.

In the afternoon, they explore the maze of numerous narrow streets behind the City Avenue, or go hiking in the mountains. Lying on the beach at sunset, calling each other's names. At night, they have dinner in the restaurant facing the beach, drink in the courtyard of the white wall hotel, and the moonlight twines around the edge of the waves.

Sometimes Hoffa would open his mouth and talk like an old woman without a topic. But agraia said very little. She always held him and listened to him. But Hoffa has learned to value the few words she says.

There are fewer and fewer people in the world who can speak. Most of the time, those foreign cities seem to fall asleep. Although they are still operating as usual, sometimes they don't meet a speaker after a day's walking.

The whole world is quiet as if they are the only two who can talk.

But there's nothing wrong with that.

They sit in Vienna's empty concert hall, watch the stage where there is no playing, try every instrument they have seen or haven't seen, and use them to make all kinds of noises.

They go to the Louvre in France, and agraia will draw two little turtles on the marble chest of Venus with broken arms, put the head of Sphinx on the head of victory, or draw some circles on the face of Mona Lisa.

One afternoon, with a camera, he took her to the largest clothing center in Milan, Italy, and watched her change every dress in the window, literature, intellectual, pure, sexy, fashionable, retro One by one, Hoffa took the whole album one by one.

In the end, they rushed them out of an underground printing studio in Berlin, but they didn't take them away.

A week went by, then another week, then another week... They traveled all over Europe and finally returned to England.

One morning, Hoffa suggested a walk.

So they walked along the Thames to the subway line, where there was a coffee shop from night till now.

Romanticism

"romanticism..."

looking at the sign of the coffee shop, aglia suddenly asked with a smile, "do you drink coffee?"

"Good."

Hoffa nodded, took aglia's arm and went into the cafe.

In the coffee shop in the early morning, the cashier cleans the white porcelain cup quietly, and the radio under the Chlorophytum plays quiet music. The sound is only three degrees. Hoffa is very familiar with that song, but he can't name it, but he doesn't care.

Agraia gave Hoffa a window seat, sat down, put his hand in his hand, and asked with concern, "last night you almost finished a bottle of tequila by yourself. What's on your mind? "

Hoffa nodded. Her hand was warm and dry in his. He looked at the palm of her hand. The pink glaze on her fingernails was as transparent as glass.

"Can you talk to me?"

Agraia palms down and holds the back of his hand.

At this time, the waiter brought the menu and interrupted agraia's inquiry.

Agraia opened her hand, looked down at the menu, and in the early morning the sun shone through the hardwood panes of the cafe, gilding her long arms.

Hoffa did not blink at the girl across the table. All kinds of faces he saw in the world adventure seemed to be God's logo.

The faces of the men and women were the same and lonely. They faced the nothingness naked in front of him, meaningless. But this face is different.

He can clearly feel his own meaning and connection.

Meaning, name, identity.

After agraia ordered the coffee.

Hoffa sat up slowly and said seriously, "aglea, let me tell you a story."

"And you learned to tell stories?"

The silver haired girl held her cheek and pointed her finger at his chest.

Hoffa pointed to his head with a smile. "It's right here. Do you listen?"

"Well, say it. What's the story? "

The young girl with silver hair looked at him with her cheek. It seemed that she could not see him enough.

Hoffa tilted his head and thought, "I think this story is called the arrow of time."

"The arrow of time?"

Agraia wondered, "what's that?""Arrow of time..."

Hoffa turned his head, fiddled with the cup in front of him, and looked out of the window. The wooden shutters of the coffee shop were not glazed, and they were strung together with green plastic ropes. Looking out from between the hardwood strips, there are dry fountains, flower like tiles and a Volkswagen Mini beetle in the early morning sun.

"A long time ago, when I was still in Paris, one day, I felt someone behind me looking at me..."

he sat in a coffee shop and slowly described his adventures through time and space, whether he was in a daze selling arms, or he met a magical nun, or he met a crazy dream, a cold-blooded officer, or a blood sucking city City, and her father, who fell into the abyss, and her terrible opponent in the dark.

The sun is rising, the sky is cloudy, and their shadows are lengthening.

Hoffa's tone didn't fluctuate much. Agraia kept calm at the beginning, but gradually, she was attracted by the story. Finally, she was sobbing.

After Hoffa finished speaking slowly, he took a sip of coffee on the table and waited quietly.

"Is the past unchangeable?" She asked in a low voice.

"I'm sorry, agraia. I can't save fatil. His soul is engulfed by mistletoe." Hoffa said faintly.

"I don't blame you," he sobbed, covering his face. "I just... I just can't help you."

Hoffa stretched out his hand and held her hand. He didn't release it or comfort her. He just sat quietly, just like a Buddha. When she choked, he began to narrate smoothly again.

He talked about the merciless flare of time, about the death of old Hoffa. Talking about the cooperation with Voldemort, about his own compromise, about greendevo's plan, about his destiny in Hogwarts, about his 6000 reincarnations in the underworld, about the death of Barty and his son, about his resistance to destiny.

Until out of the window of the cafe, a subway rumbles, Hoffa is silent, the story suddenly stops.

After listening to the second half of the story, agraia wiped her eyes and couldn't help smiling excitedly. "You haven't told me the end of the story yet?"

"Leave it to others to guess."

Hoffa stretched and stood up. "But I don't think the story is over yet."

Agleia stares at Hoffa standing up and pays attention to the subway coming in the distance. She suddenly understands everything. Her face suddenly loses all her blood color. All those beautiful, sweet and gentle things are gone like bubbles. Her voice is slightly trembling.

"Are you bringing me here to say goodbye to me?"

"Ah."

Hoffa sighed, as if spitting out his own soul, "yes."

"Back in the past? Fifty years ago?

"Yes."

Hoffa shrugged, fingertips across the table and said with a smile, "I have a few small problems left. I'll stay in the past and wait for me to solve them."

Agraia clenched his fist, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, it was very desolate. "But do you know your definite destiny? What if you don't come back? What will you do if your life stays in these 50 years forever? "

Hoffa said calmly that he had already thought about the answer: "it's like a normal person, to continue to live. Eat, study, sleep. "

"What about us, what about us?"

Agraia stood up, holding the table in despair. "Are you tired of it?"

Hoffa shook his head. "I love you, aglia, more than anyone else."

"Why?"

She suddenly got up and hugged Hoffa. Her palms were like steel bars, fastening his waist tightly.

"Why can't you stay in this time and space!? We are together, shopping together, eating ice cream together, watching movies together, and... Doing very happy things together. " Said, she has choked: "why must you, let others go?"

Hoffa affectionately wiped her tears. There was not much expression on her face. Only the sunshine flowed in his Obsidian eyes, just like the Milky way.

"In the third grade, I asked you what life is. At that time, I didn't know anything, but now, I do. Life is the game of the brave and the sorrow of the coward.

There are too many original sins in this world, too many original sins in human beings, ugliness, poverty, loneliness, inadequacy and death. How much courage it takes to face this cold original sin? Maybe few people can do it, but I think I can, because this is the meaning of my existence. "

"Then take me with you."

Agraia grabbed his arm, his fingers almost sunk in his flesh.

Hoffa shook his head. "I can't do it. Can you understand me?"

"I can understand you, but I can't accept it. If so, why do you have to save me? Why do you have to go to the underworld to find me. Why do you leave me in a strange empty space? ""There are still many beautiful things..."

"don't reason with me, I just want you."

"I'm here, all the time."

"Will you come back?"

"Yes."

"Can you promise?"

Looking at her red eyes, Hoffa thought of the past, the future, who he had been, his mysterious smile, the past, the strange life, the future and the unpredictable fate.

Finally, he bowed his head and kissed agraia on the lips.

"I promise."

Agleia broke her tears into a smile, took Hoffa's neck and hugged him.

To the unknown subway from far and near, a short stop.

Huofasong is a girl in his arms. The door opens in front of him. Like an ordinary office worker, huofasong follows the bustling crowd, walks into the crowd, and integrates with them.

Before the door closed, he finally looked back and saw aglia standing at the station, waving to herself in tears. Her waist length silver hair was floating in the air, bleached by the sun, just like when they met for the first time.

And he waved at her calmly.

The doors are closed and the subway is moving.

The carriage was rickety, with people coming up and down from Hoffa. He found a window seat.

When the subway goes underground, it falls into darkness. Only occasionally there are one or two bright lights or road signs waiting for maintenance. The dark glass reflects his own face, face to face. Before he could see what he looked like, the darkness had disappeared again, giving him endless sunshine.

On the wide and smooth asphalt road, red double decker buses gallop by, pedestrians chat leisurely, colorful balloons are flying in the air, there are bright and beautiful brand shops on the roadside, teenagers slide down the steps on skateboards, and lovers kiss on the street.

The view out of the window is engraved on Hoffa's face through the subway window, whether it is a deep and dark underground corridor or a sunny city park. He watched quietly.

Unconsciously, he has quietly shed tears.

Those intense and surging emotions turned into relief, and the unforgettable loneliness turned into deep feeling. He knew that it was the calm of facing the fate alone, and that it was the most extreme romance given to him by God.

"Why are you crying?"

There was a soft and curious question by his side. It was an ignorant little boy who handed Hoffa a piece of paper.

"Because I'm happy."

Hoffa took the paper chokingly.

"Why do you cry when you are happy?" The little boy asked him.

"What about happiness?"

"Laugh when you are happy." The little boy comforted him.

"Yes."

Hoffa dried his tears and said with a smile, "take me with you."

When the train arrived, countless well-dressed men and women with briefcases swarmed into the subway. Some of them look numb, others look empty, like sleepwalking.

But one of them, a teenager and a middle-aged man, seemed out of place with the crowd.

The boy has messy hair, round glasses, and a lightning scar on his forehead. He looks a little melancholy and restless. The middle-aged people are wearing thin pants and an old jacket, a face of curiosity to touch the rings on the subway.

"Mr. Weasley, if convicted, will I be put in Azkaban?" The young man with glasses asked uneasily.

"What are you thinking?" The middle-aged man couldn't help laughing, "there is no such lawlessness in the wizarding society."

"What would be the worst result?"

"Well, maybe it's expulsion from Hogwarts, which is the worst outcome." Arthur Weasley thought about it and comforted him: "don't worry, it won't happen..."

but Harry still couldn't help turning his head. Arthur's words didn't comfort him. It was the trial of the Ministry of magic. There were several people who had experienced it and some who could really carry it down. He didn't think Arthur could really understand his current mood.

But then, in the crowd, Harry felt someone looking at him again. He turned his head. See the head against the corner of the glass, that is older than the youth, in the sun, the youth nodded to him, a smile, quiet and easygoing.

Harry was stunned. The boy looks very ordinary, but his smile seems to have a strange healing power, so that people who see it can't help but feel good. The bright black eyes are like birds in the sky - free and unfettered. It seems that I just looked at him, and the later trial became less terrible.

"Look, Mr. Weasley."

Harry pulled the clothes of the middle-aged man beside him to show him the strange boy.

But when he looked again, the seat was empty. The strange boy has disappeared.

(the arrow of time is over)