Friendship, years, hands

Whenever I open the wardrobe, the black satchel will tickle my nerves. It seems that my friend still holds my hand with her soft hand!

It was a gentle and gentle beauty with the same name. We sympathized with each other and wanted to see each other. We held hands and became best friends. At that time, I was in a typewriting agency, typing papers and other manuscripts, passing my youth. She lives in the same room with me - a small CD seller who rents the same shop as my boss.

I remember that the sky was so clear and the clouds were so smart. Friends and girlfriends roam in the noisy streets. My long hair and her short hair are beautiful, attracting many passers-by to look back. We crowded into the vegetable market and bought two Spanish mackerel and a small dish. We returned to my wife's house. Although she was young, she had amazing cooking skills. Braised Spanish mackerel was her specialty. After that, we had a happy meal. Talking about the topics that young people will never finish talking about, ideals and love, until the sunset fades, we can't stand her "repeated retention", and we talk at night while staying in her boudoir bed... Later, her business of selling CDs was poor, and after the store was sold, we were still close to each other. Finally, the "vow" is matched by "wife". Although my wife and I have very different experiences, it does not affect our intimacy and friendship. She once said with a smile, "don't marry tomorrow. I'll earn money to support you!" My pager rings from time to time because of her existence.

That year, it was a time when she had just celebrated her 18th birthday. Due to her father's "gambling" and her mother's "noisy" and her brother's "laziness", she was forced to leave her favorite school and live in the city. Without education and skills, she became a waiter in the hotel. She was smart and smart. Soon, she learned to socialize, drink, and have sex with men... Because of her delicate appearance, many married men came to please her, and unmarried men could only flinch. Her father was taken to the Public Security Bureau for some unknown reason. When she was too anxious to do anything, a man who was "good" in the street helped her. Father was naturally released. From then on, she followed the middle-aged man with all her heart.

Since then, our contacts have been no longer close, and we seldom received calls from her when she went to a certain place to talk about business and had dinner in a certain hotel. Once, I was living in the family yard of the Beijing army. I had nothing to do and went to the city to play. At the gate of a four-star hotel, she hugs with a middle-aged businessman who seems to be mature and handsome. I am both delighted and surprised by her changes. Urban girls are fashionable, beautiful and capable. Years have not left any traces on her. She insisted on going to Xidan shopping mall to buy two same leisure bags, gave me one and slung the other on my shoulder. A gust of wind like the car, fade out of my sight.

About the time her son was in the kindergarten, her phone suddenly rang and she wanted to come to our "small home" in Beijing. The husband's family room is not lively because of the arrival of a beautiful woman, and the opposite is even more desolate. She is still beautiful. Her teeth, which have been unsightly since childhood, have been replaced by porcelain fused to metal teeth. They are white and bright, and people have more free and easy mature beauty. She got her driver's license and drove a Beijing Hyundai skillfully. We held hands and still wanted to talk about a lot of topics, but the enthusiasm of the past was lost. At that time, I was a military family member who had been around the pot all day, but she was the elite traveling in the prosperous city. It's still the old rule. She cooks for me. Is "old wife" still the original "old wife"? Her sudden arrival is like her sudden departure. Leave me alone. An inexplicable thing envelops me. Is it envy? Jealous? Her scenery reflects my ordinary, and her generosity corresponds to my timidity and introversion. Are we no longer connected outside the door of the years?

I remember she once said: "good things must be shared by sisters.". Today, we live in the same sunshine, but we write different lives. It seems to hear the cry of the years—— Is it a pity? Is it sad? That once, the past acquaintance has now become the past. Will she share with me the ordinary family and career I have? Will she blend in with the happiness of a layman like me?

I still continue to live a simple life in my own story. The crowd on the street is still bustling. What are they busy about? At this time, it suddenly occurred to me whether my best friend "old wife" was no longer afraid of marriage and no longer worried about family chores. Have you already had a simple or luxurious home of your own.

Today, the black satchel that commemorates friendship is still quietly hanging in the wardrobe. The vast sea of people, but I can no longer touch the hands of friends!

Leave a comment

Please note, comments must be approved before they are published