Wishes

The volumes of Chinese classics stood tightly packed to the point that it took considerable effort to retrieve a single book. His nine burly, shiny fingers swept rare dust off the bookshelf. Pressing firmly on the thick spine of a black-bound edition with his index and middle finger, it tumbled into his bandaged hand. It seemed that for the past two and a half days, Zhang Zhijiang had been rereading his books over and over again, trying to distract himself from his thoughts and what he had done. Because if he were to analyze his own actions, he would probably lose his mind completely. On Friday, Zhijiang was rinsing off the dirt of the streets after a day of work. His disproportionately long and slightly crooked finger snagged on the gap of the partially unclosed shower cabin, which greatly annoyed him. A disturbing but inexplicably attractive thought pierced his brain like a lightning strike. Zhijiang fell into a short stupor and looked at his irritating finger with surprise. He was acutely aware of the insanity of his desire, but he couldn't do anything about it. Taking his own pinkie finger in his teeth, he bit down on it. It hurt. Very much. However, the pain didn't cause Zhijiang as much suffering as the pinkie finger, which continued to live its own life and now seemed unimaginably superfluous to him. It became disruptive and irritating, like an eyelash in the eye or a scab on a fresh cut, dry crust in the nostrils. He sighed heavily several times and clenched his teeth with all his might. The sharp pain didn't subside, immediately piercing his entire body. Tears streamed down Zhijiang's face as he moaned plaintively and dropped the showerhead onto the tiled floor, all the while not letting go of the finger in his teeth. He clenched his jaws harder. A cartilage cracked, and the finger now clung to the skin and some veins. The pinkie finger twitched in the man's mouth, like a dying fish. A small agony. He struggled the most with the skin. Tormented by pain, restraining himself from screaming, Zhijiang tore and tormented his own hand, much like a Rottweiler. At one point, the pain became unbearable. He instinctively clenched his jaws and yanked his hand, overcoming the wretched finger. *** His maimed hand reached up to his nose to stifle an approaching sneeze, but unable to prevent the natural impulse, the man accidentally poked himself in the eye with his hand. After blinking a few times, he realized that something foreign had entered his eye and glanced at the mirror. Carefully examining the eye socket, Zhijiang concluded that the dust on the bookshelf was not as harmless as it seemed and, with a tired sigh, began to vigorously rub his eye. After a few minutes of diligent fiddling with his eye, he realized. It wasn't the dust that needed to be gotten rid of.