女人翻了一下身,用毯子裹紧身体,眼睛盯着墙上的钟。钟摆的运动单调而有序,就像昨天,就像过去。钟面落满灰尘,蜘蛛十分耐心地绕着钟结网。她看了一会儿,转过头去,几秒钟后又转了回来。钟响了六声,她用手指堵住耳朵。窗外是云层厚积的天空,雾气腾腾地把各处都染成了灰色。对她而言,星期五总是漫长而灰色的,仿佛凝固了一般,有时又显得迟疑拖沓。当她把手指从耳朵上挪开,钟敲了最后一响。“如果我能晚一点儿醒来,如果我能睡到十二点,那该多好啊。” The woman turned a bit, wrapped her body in a blanket and stared at the wall clock. Pendulum movement monotonous and orderly, just like yesterday, just like the past. Clock face covered with dust, spiders very patiently around the clock network. She looked for a moment, turned her head and turned back in a few seconds. The bell rang six times, her fingers plugging her ears. Out the window is the sky thick clouds, everywhere in the mist dyed gray. For her, Friday is always long and gray, as if frozen, and sometimes hesitant. As she moved her finger away from her ear, the bell struck the last ring. “If I could wake up later, it would be nice if I could sleep until twelve.”