This is a storybook about youth. Youth is the most beautiful time in a person's life, but time is like quicksand, and our youth will be submerged. And I would like to use this book to commemorate our domineering youth, those friends who paid for us, were discarded by us, and finally cherished in the early years of love.
I looked at him with a wry smile, then lay down on the hard lime ground, with my left hand under my head to support my head, and my right hand holding my cigarette tightly, slowly putting it on my lips. The smoke was thick around me, and the light fragrance of tobacco lingered between my fingers. Under the dim light of the street lamp, it changed and disappeared, and then it seemed as if it had never appeared before. Only the light fragrance on my fingertips lingered.
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There were more and more soot on the ground, intertwined with the rain, and finally blurred. I shook off the remaining cigarette ashes on my body, stood up and walked into class. Looking at his face that was as vibrant as before, she felt the same urge to kiss him forcefully as the first time she saw her, and she couldn't help but feel happy. As I walked past him, there was still the faint smell of laundry detergent. He once remembered that he didn't like the strong fragrance of laundry detergent. The smell always made people dizzy.
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It's still in this place now, but it's just gone. The tears shed by the girl for her beloved, the youthful feeling of entrusting her heart to the young man who protected her with his life.
Recalling these makes me, who was already strong, burst into tears.
I hid under the quilt and started crying, but I didn't see the boy who was already waiting outside the door.
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