as straight, it was a
#14099 (In Topic #13102)
Habitually remembered, you always love to hold my left hand, in the sunny day. I have asked you why, but you smile and ridicule Newport 100S, and take you out to play on a sunny day, you are not afraid to lose. I pretended to be angry, watching you smile and take out all kinds of pastries from the cabinet. My eyes slanted from time to time to the pastry Marlboro Lights, but plucked back, pretending that the anger was gone. You make me with a pastry, the glass on the cupboard reflects your smile Parliament Cigarettes, dark skin, deep wrinkles, and a shallow squat next to the brow, but it seems to fly, like a crawling cockroach. I couldn't help but smile and clenched the pastry. At that time, you always love to use my left hand and walk on the path of the country, in the sunny day. The sun is just right, the trees are full when it is sunny, the wheat is fragrant when the wind is blowing, the sun is sweeping the path, and the breeze passes through the fingertips. You took my left hand, let me stop and walk on the path, sing and dance, accompany my rhythm, follow my heart, but say nothing, just laugh. I may have pulled up your hand many times, and looked at it carefully. Your hands are rough, and there are old buddies who have been working all the year round. There are also scars of different depths on the back of the hand. Years of labor made it rough and strong, and when it was straight, it was a bit curved, but it was so warm and powerful, and took me through one sunny day after another. Later, I left you because I went to school. Nothing unusual, not living together, slowly being unfamiliar. You can have a holiday in your nest for a while, and it is no different from childhood, except that the hand is getting rougher and weaker. On a sunny day after another, when the girl walks on the path, she no longer needs to take you. The hand, leaving a person, gradually drifting away, looking back, can not see. You slept, in this land, on a sunny day. Reaching out my left hand again, no one is coming. You accompanied me through the sunny days, unconsciously, you became my sunny day. But now, no one laughs and changes the pastry in the morning; no one takes my left hand and walks on the path; no one screams and cools; there is no one-of-a-kind sunny day… I know, you insist Take my left hand, just because no matter where I am, I am on your inside. I love you, my sunny day, I have you, my sunny day! Even if it is in memory
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