After the Condensation- 適合中高級的英語短篇故事

Quinn yanked a strip from the tape dispenser, its plastic wheel squeaking against the gritty counter. He pressed the strip across the shipping label, yet beads of water pushed the adhesive loose immediately. The parcel had arrived chilled from a refrigerated van, and the cold surface kept drawing a misty film. Condensation spilled over the form beside it, smearing two inked numbers into an unreadable blur. With his ticket already nearing its turn, Quinn scraped the wet form away and listened to the next beep.

He retreated to the form-filling desk where pens on chains rattled under the fluorescent buzz. Several flat parcels had been stacked against the wall, and their edges rasped together whenever someone brushed past. The soggy sheet went into a paper box marked for recycling, its damp corner folding like wilted lettuce. He copied each line again, careful to leave the weight field blank until the scale confirmed the numbers. A distant truck door thudded, wafting a faint odor that reminded him of a landfill beyond the ring road. Two delivery clerks in identical navy shirts carried crates past him, their easy brotherhood clear in synchronized steps and shared whistles. Quinn paused to aid them, lifting a light box so the narrow aisle could flourish with quicker movement again. By the time he returned to the waiting area, the display had skipped five numbers and droned on.

At last his ticket lit the screen, and the clerk slid the same tape dispenser onto the sill without comment. The parcel had warmed during the delay, the mist evaporating into the stuffy serenity of the crowded room. Quinn wiped the cardboard once, then touched a fresh strip of tape to the surface; the glue gripped immediately. He ran his thumb slowly along the seam, and no bubbles rose. If the parcel had been left in the van all morning, the label would have peeled once more. To keep moisture from returning, the clerk nudged a small desk fan so its warm draft swept across the parcel. Above them, the fan blades whirred onward in a steady circle of air.

昆恩猛力扯下一段膠帶，塑膠輪在粗糙的櫃台上發出尖銳的摩擦聲。他把膠帶壓在託運單上，但水珠立刻把黏面推開。包裹是從冷藏貨車送來的，冰冷表面不斷冒出薄霧。凝結的水滴流到旁邊的表格，把兩個已填好的數字抹成一片模糊。號碼快輪到時，昆恩將沾濕的表格拉開，耳邊再度響起取號機的嗶聲。

他退到填表桌，鏈條吊筆在白亮燈管的嗡鳴下叮噹作響。靠牆堆著一疊扁平包裹，有人經過時邊緣互相磨出沙沙聲。濕表格被他丟進寫著回收的紙箱，潮角像枯萎的生菜折了下去。他重新抄寫每一欄，小心把重量一格空著，等秤完再填。遠處卡車門砰然關上，一股微弱氣味飄來，讓他想起環城道路外的垃圾掩埋場。兩名穿同款深藍襯衫的運送員抬著箱子經過，步伐和口哨配合得像熟練搭檔。昆恩順手抬走一只輕箱，好讓狹窄走道再次暢通。等他回到候位區，螢幕已跳過五個號碼，低低地持續嗡鳴。

終於輪到他的號碼，櫃員把同一個膠帶台推到窗檯，什麼也沒說。因為等待，包裹已經回溫，霧氣散進擁擠房間那股悶熱的靜氣中。昆恩先用手擦了下紙箱，再貼上一段新膠帶；膠漿立刻緊扣表面。他慢慢用拇指沿著接縫抹過，沒有氣泡冒出。如果包裹整個早上都留在貨車裡，標籤肯定又會翹起來。為防濕氣再生，櫃員把小桌扇輕推過來，溫暖氣流掃過包裹。頭頂的扇葉持續呼呼旋轉，在空氣中畫出穩定的圓圈。