對話被拉得像過期的棉花糖，我低頭。腳底的地毯花紋開始對我下指令：左第三個菱形＝點一下頭，深藍星花＝換半個表情，鋸齒邊框在替我倒數。花朵悄悄排出一條斜線，我照著暗號移動鞋尖，像沿逃生圖撤離。笑聲在我耳邊像塑膠袋摩擦，誰也沒抬頭。

The talk stretches like stale taffy. I look down. The red pattern starts issuing orders: third diamond on the left = nod once; navy star = change half a face; the sawtooth border counts me down. The blooms line up a diagonal, and I follow with my toe—an evacuation by floor plan. Laughter scrapes like plastic; nobody looks up. I reach the door and don’t say goodbye. The dark-blue flower under my heel stamps a silent exit.
Some motifs teach you how to leave, but only when you’re bored.