This is the sad version of YY: It has been three years, and I take his car home and back every month. I always sit behind the driver, so I can see him in the passenger seat openly. 36 Times of back and forth, the conversation was always simple, where, where, where, 40, even, he didn't remember her destination, which was always more ridiculous than sad.
There seems to be nothing that can be considered a luxury thought. . . Three years of self-indulgence is enough. . .
I still have to ride his car home, but this time I am no longer alone. I have to sit in that seat, squint slightly, and make this long dream come to an end.
Go home? Well, let's do the math together and hand over 100 yuan.
Ah. . Okay, object? He raised his eyes in surprise, yes.
Going to do something? It's been a long time since I've been in my car.
Ah, I'm not sure yet, I probably won't sit there again. I finished the ticket test and picked up the car, so I started driving by myself after practicing again.
Well, okay, it's convenient, come on, I won't charge you any money this time, I've been sitting there for 3 years, let's give something back.
The 100 yuan Mao Zedong fell back into his hand. The car had stopped. He told the driver something but didn't hear it clearly.
Anyway, I can't sleep.
Sister, why do you say that? I even despise you.
Come on, it's good that I don't dislike you, but you still have to keep quiet. Don't mess with me when I'm in a bad mood.