Numbers Inside Shifting Light- 適合中高級的英語短篇故事

"Pass me that clipboard."

June reached across the glossy arm of the plastic chair and lifted the thin board, its surface catching the overhead glare. A grey cat lounged by the waiting-room window; each time headlights swept the parking lot, the animal’s silhouette stretched along the linoleum like ink. Fluorescent tubes hummed at full wattage above, yet a strip near the reception desk flickered, throwing a pulse of pooled darkness across the number machine. June had already filled page A, yet her pen paused when the next box asked for a date she did not know. She kept a loose clutch on the clipboard, reread the line, and pressed harder, but the nib scratched without leaving ink.

The speaker popped, and “Forty-two” echoed down the hallway, though June’s ticket read “Forty-three.” She rose anyway, hoping the receptionist might wave her forward. Halfway across the bright-to-dim patchwork floor she fumbled the form; it slid into shadow beside the cat, which twitched but did not move. By the time she retrieved it, another number sounded, this time “Forty-one,” called entirely out of order. A sudden drop in luminance rippled through the room as the ceiling tubes dimmed; someone muttered that the building’s wiring could not bear yesterday’s added lamps. The cat darted under a bench, and its movement stirred the forms stacked there, turning their edges like a tiny paper hurricane.

June adjusted her approach, waiting until a steadier glow returned. She edged closer to the glass panel, angling her body so her ticket glimmered in the receptionist’s line of sight. The form was finally accepted; it was being scanned when a memory surfaced: the rear corner of the lot had once served as a quarantine zone for stray kittens, and the yellow tape still dangled beyond the lamps outside. June stepped through the sliding door, leaving the murmur behind. Inside, the cue board kept rolling numbers across alternating bands of light and broadening shadow.

「把那塊寫字板遞給我。」

琼伸過塑膠椅的光滑扶手，拿起薄薄的寫字板；上面的亮面映著頭頂的強光。候診室的窗邊，一隻灰貓蜷伏著；每當停車場車燈掃過，牠的身影就像墨跡般在油毯地面拉長。螢光燈管全功率運作，然而接待臺附近有一段管子忽明忽暗，黑暗的脈衝覆在取號機上。琼已填好 A 表，但當下一格需要不確定的日期時，她的筆尖停住了。她輕握寫字板，再次查看那行字，筆尖用力劃過，卻沒留下墨跡。

擴音器啪一聲響，走廊裡回盪著「四十二號」，而琼的號碼是「四十三」。她還是站起來，盼望接待員會示意她上前。走在明暗交錯的地面中央，她一時手滑，表格落在貓旁邊的陰影裡；貓耳動了動，卻沒有挪位。她撿回表格時，另一個號碼又響起，這次是「四十一」，完全亂了順序。天花板的燈忽地暗下來，房裡亮度驟減；有人低聲說昨晚臨時加裝的燈讓線路吃不消。貓鑽到長椅下，掀起的紙張旋動，像一陣袖珍紙颶風。

琼改變策略，等光線變得穩定才再度靠近玻璃櫃臺，調整角度讓號碼紙閃進接待員的視線。終於，她的表格被收下並開始掃描；她想起停車場角落曾用作流浪小貓隔離區，燈柱外還晃著淡黃膠帶。琼穿過自動門，將室內的喃喃聲留在身後。裡面，排隊顯示板在一道道交替的明光與漸闊的暗影中持續滾動號碼。