Sand. essay. Forty-eight. Memories of the nine-year-old

In addition to the plan, I had dinner with an elementary school student who had never been in contact for a long time. My classmate's face could not find the traces of the year, but he saw me in the crowd at a glance.
Suddenly I don't know what to say. We sat in SABEL and were silently forgotten by the waiter until I could leave.
Today's topic is always inseparable from work and feelings, occasionally recalling the time of those students. In the past, I was treated as a zombie because I had never liked it.
It turned out that we were not just me, but now we are all talking with a smile about the sadness at that time, secretly touching the scar in our hearts.
I was no longer naive. Now I say, "Why don't I get married? Because I am still small ." I couldn't hold back and sneered.
It turns out that we have changed. Memories of the nine-year-old, all happiness and unhappiness are pure dreams.