一只蚊子伏在墙上，已然是吸饱了血，肚子鼓得宛如装满物什的蒲包。一掌拍过去，墙上留下一滩蚊子血，血迹鲜红，分明是来自我的动脉。
几乎本能地想起张爱玲的《红玫瑰与白玫瑰》：也许每一个男子全都有过这样的两个女人，至少两个．娶了红玫瑰，久而久之，红的变了墙上的一抹蚊子血，白的还是“床前明月光”；娶了白玫瑰，白的便是衣服上的一粒饭粘子，红的却是心口上的一颗朱砂痣。
不是我爱吊书袋，我根本没什么书袋可吊，只是这比喻实在是残酷得很，让人不得不印象深刻。
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