I was sorting out the messy papers in my room, and a birthday card from my classmates fell out between the two pages of a junior high school math exercise book. Their signatures were a little crooked, and they used colorful highlighters, and the oil on them showed signs of being rubbed. These naughty kids still don't understand that writing names with colored pens is disrespectful to themselves. The afternoon sun shines through the half-covered curtains, a little gentle. I looked carefully at every name on the greeting card:
... Duan Xufei, Li Zhihao, Jiang Xiaoyue.
Li Zhihao drew a picture of a crutch in a trash can, and he and he and she standing next to me and supporting me. He wrote his name in front of mine with a small heart in the middle. I smiled and touched it, but I felt a sense of regret. It's like Duan Xufei's name is only five millimeters away from me. Jiang Xiaoyue's name was behind Duan Xufei's, and each of them wrote half a sentence: Xiao Qiao, I wish you a happy birthday.
The story of four people has twists and turns.
When I opened the greeting card, I saw it again.