一外面,正对着校园门口,有一棵没有长起来的国槐树。小老树长满乱七八糟的枝丫,歪斜古怪,从未有人修理过它,像是一个胡须眉毛头发一起疯长纠缠的流浪汉,再也回不到自己的家。小老树下,不知什么时候冒出一个卖炒瓜子的摊子。老板是个矮壮汉子,三十多岁,一口地道浓重的东北腔,黝黑的面孔不知是被转炉烟熏的还是打小就这样。他整天嘻嘻哈哈地炒瓜子卖瓜子,忙得和炒炉一样转个不停, Outside, facing the school gate, there is a not grown king locust tree. Little old tree full of messy branches, skew strange, never been repaired it, like a bearded hairbrush together entangled tramp, can no longer return to their own homes. Small old tree, I do not know when to emerge a stall selling fried melon seeds. The boss is a sturdy man, more than 30 years old, an authentic Northeast heavy chamber, dark face I do not know the converter is smoked or hit it so small. He was laughing and joking to sell melon seeds all day, too busy and fried stoves like a non-stop turn,