她不再爱我了。这是那堆排在书桌角落的高考复习资料告诉我的。书的包装纸上可以用手指划上我的名字,可我不愿意吹掉掩埋它们的灰尘,翻开看看里面装的是什么锦囊妙计,甚至只是简单地在扉页上写下我的高考“国度”:XX一中,高三一班。我只是用疲倦的目光看着它们在流过的时间里慢慢变老……我怀着愤恨写下“她就是我的妈妈”——那堆已在慢慢死去的参考书的物质拥有者。她不 She no longer loves me. This is what the college entrance examination review data in the corner of the desk tells me. The name of the book can be marked with my finger on the wrapping paper, but I don’t want to blow away the dust that buries them, turn around to see what’s inside, or even simply write down my entrance on the title page.” Country ": XX one, high three. I just watched them with a weary gaze as they slowly grew older... I wrote with resentment that “She is my mother”—a stack of reference books that are slowly dying. owner. She does not