This Is a Diary

After get off work, I went to get a nucleic acid test. There were many stalls set up on the sidewalk next to the test site. Sometimes I think these stall owners are very clever, especially when I smell the aroma of grilled sausages but have to queue up first.

Halfway through the queue, a few elderly people ahead of us didn't know how to use the QR code, so the staff put down cotton swabs and taught them, which slowed down the queue.

I don't care about the slow-moving queue; my life has always been slow-moving—if I hadn't happened to stop right next to the sausage stand, if I had already eaten lunch.

The unique flavor of the starch sausage gradually became more cheerful under the high temperature of baking, followed by a greasy but not unpleasant smell of fat, and I involuntarily swallowed.

The sausage was glowing, really.

The children next to him were so hungry they cried – they really cried – especially when another child who had just finished his nucleic acid test held up a grilled sausage and gesturing smugly at him.

Amidst the fragrance and the sound of weeping, the procession began to move again.

When it was my turn, I numbly opened my phone, showed the QR code, and then went to the next window, pulled down my mask, and opened my mouth wide—the lady shoving my throat today was particularly forceful, seemingly in a bad mood. As I closed my mouth, I glanced at the small white plastic bag inside the booth, which contained a half-eaten sausage.

No wonder you're in a bad mood. The sausage is right in front of you, but you can't eat it. I would be unhappy too.

I swallowed hard. The aroma of grilled sausage wafted into my nose on the night breeze, and it seemed to have a sweet scent added to it—the owner must have started applying the sauce.

The little boy who had just been crying and fussing got a few yuan from his grandmother after he finished his nucleic acid test behind me and stood in front of the stall with me.

The two men simultaneously made a "V" sign, and the shopkeeper understood. "Two sticks each?"

The child and I nodded at the same time, and then glanced at each other simultaneously.

A feeling of finding a kindred spirit immediately arose within me. We exchanged a glance and both saw the admiration in each other's eyes.

True friends are hard to find, so I immediately decided to stop secretly laughing at the child's crying.

The two, one big and one small, stood in front of the stall, watching longingly as the intricate carvings on the sausages gradually curled up, their lips curving into smiles.

"Four pieces." The owner handed me two grilled sausages, and I smiled and shook my head, giving them to the child.

The child gave me a grateful look, handed me four coins, and happily took the sausage, saying, "Thank you, Uncle."

I should have kept laughing at you and even eaten that sausage right in front of you. I thought to myself with a laugh.

Thankfully, the owner didn't stop brushing on the sauce, and before long, I had a sausage in my hand making a "V" sign.

I didn't even ask for a plastic bag; it's environmentally friendly.

The golden-brown, slightly charred surface is dotted with delightful little bubbles. The oily bubbles burst open, releasing wisps of smoke that immediately dissipate. Bright red sauce drips from the edges of the knife onto my hand, creating a truly delightful experience.

I squinted my eyes and took a happy bite.

Next, I should slurp the hot sausage around in my mouth with a "hissing" sound, then swallow it down and let out a satisfied sigh.

It should be.

I'm still hissing, simply because it's hot.

Now I finally understand why that girl was in a bad mood.

These sausages, these sausages...

It tastes absolutely awful...

The child holding his grandmother's hand started crying again.

(To soothe my wounded heart, I'll take a day off.)