手心里紧攥着的车票已经汗湿了,展开它,我看到“淮北——舒城”。舒城,我的家。心蓦地一紧,我闭上眼睛。再睁开眼时,姑姑已站在面前。她漂亮的脸铁青着,默默抽出我手心的票,退票,提包,拉起我走出候车厅。一切不由分说。没有责备,她只说了一句:“小米才八岁啊,还是个孩子。”我? The ticket next to my hand was already sweaty. Expand it, and I saw “Huaibei - Shucheng.” Shu Cheng, my home. A tight heart, I closed my eyes. When he opened his eyes, his aunt was already standing in front of him. Her pretty face was blue and green, silently taking out the ticket from my palm, refunding the ticket, carrying the bag, and pulling me out of the waiting room. Everything does not matter. Without reproach, she said only: “Mille was only eight years old and was still a child.” Me?