“我想我是老了吧!”尘喃喃自语道。最近尘总是喜欢翻看过去的相片,细细体味那一张张青涩笑脸后的故事,总是不由自主地将记忆的闸门打开,任记忆的洪水在脑海里泛滥成灾。十八岁那年与雨在一起的故事被冲到脑海的堤岸上,印象如种子扎根一般越发的清晰,有种栀子花绽开般的幸福。一“我承认,我确实对雨有好感,行了吧?”尘终于在几个死党的威逼利诱下说出了他们想要的答案。雨是尘的同桌,典型的南方女孩,清清的眸子,白皙的肌肤,只看脸便觉分外的清亮。话很少,声音很细,像流云飘过一样。雨是高三转到尘班里来的,成绩一般,却有着一股北方女孩的倔强劲儿。 “I think I’m old!” muttered. Recently, the dust always likes to look through the past photos, savoring the story of a smiling face, always involuntarily opening the gate of memory, letting the flood of memory overflow in the mind. The story of being together with the rain at the age of eighteen was rushed to the embankment on the mind. The impression was as clear as the seeds were, and there was a kind of blooming happiness. “I admit that I do have a good impression of the rain, OK, right?” Dust finally expressed the answers they wanted with the brute force of several buddies. The rain is the same table as the dust. The typical southern girl, the clear scorpion, and the white skin, only see the face and feel the exceptional clarity. There are few words, and the sound is very fine, like drifting clouds. The rain came from the middle of the third year to the dust class. The results were average, but there was a strong girl from the northern girl.