填空题 A bleak afternoon in mid night, the last rays of the daylight are hastening away into the unfathomable gloom that shrouds the city, and through half-deserted streets, neon lamps are just beginning to flicker, like insidious eyes, giving light to a comer of a torn newspaper that whirls across the pedestrian crossing in a draught blowing up from nowhere I step out of the metro station.And there, at that moment, I see her. She is standing on the other side of the street, her figure half shadowed by a lamppost, her hair loose in the evening air. She is wearing a black overcoat as she always did in my remembrance, and she is smiling. I can"t see her face, but I can see her smile, a tender weary smile. Her smile chokes me. Then I understand, and the valves of time part, that after an interval of years she is back to me again.Someone pushes me. An old man with a bit suitcase totters past. Sorry, sir, he murmurs, I look up. She is gone. A long ghastly shadow of the street lamp cast upon the pedestrian crossing, covering a corner of a torn newspaper that has stopped whirling.