It's lunchtime, so she's in the kitchen, making a sandwich out of tuna fish and pre-chopped celery and onion. The kids are safe away at school, her husband off at work, and the house is hers for a few brief, calming hours.

现在是午饭时间，她在厨房做三明治，旁边摆着吞拿鱼、剁碎的芹菜和洋葱。孩子们在学校，丈夫还没下班。这几个小时，房子里就她一个人，简简单单，安安静静。

It's cold outside, but her kitchen is warm and bright, and in its comfortable familiarity she can almost banish¹ away the chill of melancholy², the knowledge deep inside her that there should be, there must be, something more to life.

外面很冷，厨房里却是温暖又明亮。在这种熟悉又舒适的环境中，她好像快忘掉那种忧伤带来的阵痛了，但在内心深处，一直觉得生活中缺少了一些东西。

She adds the mayonnaise, some garlic, some pepper, mixes briefly³, and plops a spoonful onto the bread.

她倒了一些蛋黄酱，加了一点大蒜碎和胡椒粉，搅拌，然后用勺子抹在面包片上。

And then he's there, perched at the edge of one of her battered⁴ dinette chairs, the stub of his tufted tail fitting into the old torn place in the upholstered seat almost as though that alone was the cause, the purpose of the rip.

男人出现了，他斜靠在破旧的餐椅上，发尾直接嵌入软垫上磨破的地方，好像是头发磨破了软垫、磨开的口子就是为了放头发似的。

"Hello," he says, his dark curls bouncing with his enthusiasm, playing peekaboo with the tips of his curving horns. "We need you again. It's urgent. Oh! Is that tuna you're making?"

“你好啊，”他说到，头上的黑色鬈发也随着这热情的问候弹跳起来，好像发尖玩起来藏猫猫的游戏。“我们还需要你帮忙，事情很紧急。哦！你做的是吞拿三明治吗？”

She slides the sandwich onto a plate, slightly dazed, yet somehow not at all, then pours him a glass of milk, and another for herself.

她用盘子装好三明治，递给他。头好像有点晕，又好像不晕。然后给他到了一杯牛奶，也给自己到了一杯。

"Who are you?" she asks, but he just shrugs⁶, his mouth full of tuna.

“你是谁啊？”她问到，但他满口的吞拿，只是耸耸肩。

She drinks her milk in one scared (excited?) series of gulps⁷, and slams the glass down on the counter.

她带着恐惧（抑或激动）的心情接连几大口就喝光了牛奶，然后把杯子猛地放在橱柜上。

"Who are you?" she asks again, though she is seized, quite suddenly, by a madly vivid impulse to turn, to walk to the bedroom, to reach behind the heavy antique dresser and grasp, and draw . . . what? A blade? Don't be silly, she's no good with even paring knives, which is why, of course, she buys the pre-chopped tuna salad mix. Have to buy more of the stuff. That was the last, and her husband so loves his tuna. . . .

“你到底是谁？”她再次发问。她突然生出一种异常鲜活的冲动，想要转身走进卧室，在古老而笨重的梳妆台后摸索，找出……一把刀？别傻了，她连削皮刀都用不好，所以才买已剁碎的沙拉配吞拿。又要去买了，刚刚把最后一点用掉了，她丈夫爱死了吃吞拿三明治……

"Let's not go through this again." He sighs, and wipes stray bread crumbs⁸ from his beard, rising to his cloven feet. "It gets so dull, and deep inside you know you know. Just get your things and we'll be off. There's a dragon this time, and a mage so dark that shadows linger round his eyes. We need your help."

“不用再来一次了吧。”他叹了口气，抹掉沾在胡子上的面包屑，翘起二郎腿。“太无聊了，你自己也知道。就收好你的东西跟我走吧。这次有条龙，还有个黑法师，黑到我们都看不见他的眼睛。我们需要你的帮助。”

And she stumbles, slowly gaining speed and grace, to her bedroom door, finds the things her sideways self knows she'll use, then strides back to her kitchen guest.

她跌跌撞撞地走向卧室，直到门口才慢慢稳住。找到她要用的东西，然后大方地走向厨房里的客人。

"The kids?" she asks, her last mad grasp at normalcy.

“孩子们呢？”她问，想要努力表现得正常。

He snorts, and drops his dishes in the sink. "Will be fine," he says. They're on this-world time, not ours. You'll be back before they even know you're gone. Before you even know you're gone. Or sort of." Another shrug⁵. "You know I hate the science stuff. Now, let's away!"

他哼哼鼻子，把盘子放在水槽里。“没事，”他说，“孩子们在这个世界，和我们那个世界的时间不同。他们还没发觉你离开，你就已经回来了。或者你自己都没发觉自己曾离开过。这之类的。”他又耸耸肩。“我不擅长科学的玩意，你知道的嘛。我们现在就走吧！”

A cause. A dream. Her "something more." She smiles, just a bit at first, then wider, and holds her sword hilt tight, and then. . . .

她所谓的“缺少的东西”只是一个想法，一场梦。她笑了起来，一开始只动了动嘴角，然后裂开了嘴，紧紧握住手中的剑，然后……

It's lunchtime, so she's in the kitchen, making a sandwich out of tuna fish and . . . no, there's no chopped celery and onion left at all. Strange. She slides her sandwich onto a plate and frowns at dishes in the sink, a milk filmed glass on her counter's edge.

现在是午饭时间，她在厨房做三明治，旁边摆着吞拿鱼……很奇怪，旁边并没有剁碎的芹菜和洋葱。她用盘子给自己装了一块三明治，看着水槽里的脏盘子和橱柜上装过牛奶的杯子，皱了皱眉。

Those kids, she thinks, and wipes away a single tear, caused maybe by the onion's ghost.

她猜那些是孩子们弄的，然后拭去眼角的一滴泪。都是洋葱在捣鬼。