9月7日晴18岁,我读大一,在离家千里之外的武汉。第一个寒假到来,我收拾了东西去火车站。那天非常的冷,我站在广场的中央,身上一点点出着冷汗。手中背包还在,只是上面多了一道细长的口子,不经意看不到。里面什么都没有少,除了钱包。钱包里的钱不是太多,只有80元,可以够我买一张回家的学生票,或许还剩下一些,可买一个面包。那一刻脑子忽然成了空白,茫然地走出售票大厅,看着身边人来人往,觉得自己是一个无家可归的孩子。我的眼泪一颗颗掉下来,为我丢失的钱,为寒冷的 Sept. 7 sunny 18 years old, I read freshman, Wuhan thousands of miles away from home. The first winter vacation, I packed up to the train station. Very cold that day, I stood in the center of the square, who was a little cold sweat. Backpack still in hand, but more than a slender hole above, inadvertently can not see. Nothing less inside, except the wallet. The money in the wallet is not too much, only 80 yuan, can I buy a ticket to go home, perhaps some left to buy a piece of bread. At that moment my mind suddenly became a blank, blank out of the ticket hall, watching people coming and going around, I feel like a homeless child. My tears fall down, for my lost money, for the cold