Lost Memory-Prose

Lost Memory - Prose 1

When we meet again, that different kind of rose has withered. I stood there silently, silently. The floating past is like a flying butterfly, drawing a beautiful arc in my sad and melancholy heart, but it disappears in an instant.

Only the maple leaves that turned red yesterday still tell the story of the past. Holding hands and looking at each other, they were speechless. Standing outside the long pavilion, holding the chrysanthemums of the past in my hands, letting loneliness splash in my longing

The flying flowers awakened my silent desire. Everything has passed, and we are sinking into the beautiful dusk, but we cannot get out of the long night.

When all the sweetness flies away in an instant, the loneliness left behind is my longing. But the longing turned into a soft thread and wrapped tightly around her. The haggard and yellowed photos print frozen memories. That's all the joy, all the sadness. Who carved a mark in the desolate years? Can lost love still be found? Facing your clear and transparent gaze, the tide in my heart has already filled the corners of my eyes. The many sorrows that cannot be carried away are only the lingering sound of heartache.

Holding your hand, the warmth of the past emerges. The rose in my hand is still beautiful. I finally understand that in the world of love, fate is so fragile! If you love for a long time, it will become dull, dullness will be boring, and boringness will make you helpless...

But helplessness is doomed to parting.

Waiting for a thousand years.

I am a butterfly, opening my incomplete wings, just for that unforgettable thousand-year promise. That's me, the me you've been waiting for for thousands of years.

A jerky smile hovered in the silent night sky, like a helpless moan. In the dimly lit place, I felt helpless as the biting cold wind froze me.

Looking up at the sky, catching the sound of falling snowflakes, I see loneliness chasing behind me. Who is calling me on this confused snowy night?

The departing stories, the departing songs...

Through the long dark night, there is a faint shadow of myself.

Previous life? Or afterlife? Lost Memory - Prose 2

The years pass by quietly blowing away youth. In the passing days, there are joys, sorrows, pains, joys, colds, and warmth. Many past events have passed away. I can't regain my former beauty.

But there will always be a few engraved in a corner of my heart that is easily touched. The past that seems to have been forgotten, occasionally ripples in my heart, gently playing with the long-lost memory, the once lost Maybe it is the best memory in life.

I don’t know when I started to like memories. Occasionally I make a cup of strong coffee and reminisce about those long-lasting past events. I like to be alone in the quiet night. One person wanders endlessly in memory. I like to linger in the past that has passed, the state of mind that only I can experience, and pursue it carefully in the night, drifting away.

The memories of the past have opened up, and thoughts have drifted away. Time flies, people are like the wind, and those who were once familiar have become gradually unfamiliar and indifferent; those memories that were once unforgettable have also become vaguely Blurred, those pictures that I once thought would never fade have also become vaguely hazy.

I don’t know which season started, but those young years have waved away inadvertently. I accidentally opened a page of memory, only to find that I was no longer where I was. Unknowingly, the long-lost youth has been precipitated into the fragments of time, a faint look and a shallow intersection.

Looking at the stars, I never noticed the passage of time, the trivial bits and pieces of the past, the obsession of that season, the long and vague memories, and the thoughts of another season.

The spring flowers and autumn moons change several times, the grass grows and the orioles fly around, recalling the lost time, looking back at the splendor of the past... The smell left in the air is always so intoxicating!

While I am still lingering, today will become the past that cannot be traced. How many things in life can be regretted, those past things, the scenery passing by, the people I met, the people I missed...

.The past is fading away. The vanished yesterday, like the cold wind in winter, like withered petals, like flying dead leaves, has carved an unforgettable mark in my heart as the years go by.

How many things can be savored and how many people can be cherished in the journey we have traveled. Looking back now: The past events follow the wind, the moonlight is like water, how many nights with bright stars have been seen from a distance, how many times have we faced The colorful and gorgeous morning light; the scenes of familiar gatherings, the laughter of the past, the stories of the past, and the bits and pieces of the past, slowly fade away in the long river of time.

I like to recall: The journey of life always passes by the flowing water and falling flowers. The romance of the past has settled in the years. The past events have become memories that will be treasured forever in the heart, or a kind of beautiful and joyful relief. , or a warm and indifferent feeling.

The harsh winter has quietly receded, and the warm spring sun is bathing in the breeze. I like to reminisce about my own cup of strong coffee, slowly sip my own cup of light tea, and quietly appreciate the sunset. So gorgeous! Lost Memories - Prose 3

Years go from the peach blossoms scorching to the cold plum blossoms temporarily blooming. Time passes, the four seasons change, flowers bloom and leaves fall, another year comes. I don’t know when the expectation and joy of the New Year have ceased? Some are just feeling sentimental and lamenting that time seems to be flying by in vain!

——Inscription

Looking back suddenly, I was shocked to realize that time is like running water, and one year has frozen behind me. Staring at the endless flow of people on the street, I actually felt numb. The Spring Festival is a money-making festival for businesses, and major shopping malls have colorful promotional signs. There were shouts and shouts from merchants big and small. Spring break is a shopping holiday for those children who go home. There are too many reunions, so I can only go home, that’s all! Even if we get together, there are endless screens to scroll through and endless WeChat chats. Endless Moments. They are, so why am I not? I can never find the joy I once had! Can't find it!

The Chinese New Year in my childhood was a day I looked forward to with crossed fingers. One month before, my mother would prepare new clothes for us sisters to wear during the New Year. The clock ticked, and the kerosene lamp flickered. Grandma wore reading glasses, and my sister and I knelt in a wicker chair, lying on the table and watched grandma making butterfly buttons with her fingers dexterously, and then sewing them on the clothes stitch by stitch. A few butterflies stopped on the flowered cotton clothes, and they suddenly became animated, as if they had the fragrance of flowers! In the days to come, my sister and I would secretly try them on and take them off countless times. It can only be worn on the first day of the Lunar New Year. New socks, new cotton shoes, new headband, everything is new. New Year's Eve neatly stacked on the pillow.

It’s time to steam rice cakes at home, which means it’s Chinese New Year. I clearly remember the snow-white rice noodles in the big pot, which was accompanied by chopped red dates and fragrant osmanthus. Other families use very large steamers, and several families work together to have a dedicated steamer. My family is different. The small and exquisite steamer is made by my father himself. And it was my father who did it himself. My sister and I played in the rice noodle bowl, making both of our faces look like the painted faces of Peking Opera singers. Our mother didn't scold us either, she just let us go crazy. It is also a pleasure to watch my father steaming rice cakes. You can only see it when you stand on a bench. There is a layer of powder and a layer of brown sugar. When I was a child, I was quite naughty and would squeeze up to grab a handful from time to time. The rice cakes that have just come out of the basket are fluffy, colorful, and really beautiful. They are also my favorite. My father would cut off a big piece and put it for me. Cover the rest with a piece of cloth and press it with his hands, pressing the whole thing into a round and smooth shape.

Making steamed buns is also essential during the Chinese New Year. At that time, the family was not wealthy and it was impossible to make steamed buns with pure meat filling. My father would add some glutinous rice into the meat, and our family jokingly called it fake dumplings. To this day, whenever I eat the siomai, I am reminded of the fake steamed buns from my childhood, and I still smile happily.

All kinds of roasted seeds and nuts for the Chinese New Year have been prepared. Before the Chinese New Year, I can only eat it secretly. Ha ha!

The night of New Year’s Eve is the most exciting and busiest night. Mom has to wrap up the wontons, which are the delicacies of our New Year’s Day morning. Dad was busy cutting red paper and writing Spring Festival couplets. My sister and I were responsible for painting the paste. The table and floor were covered with red. So many Spring Festival couplets were not only from my own family, but also from the neighbors. , those father’s original Spring Festival couplets were drafted one month before and selected one by one. Watching the neighbors take out the Spring Festival couplets one after another while expressing gratitude, the joy and satisfaction filled my young heart.

On the morning of the first day of the Lunar New Year, my mother said that it was the day when we consciously get up early in the year. The two sisters scrambled to get up, put on their new clothes excitedly, and rushed to the backyard to find a tree like arrows. The straight little tree pressed its back against the trunk and said: As the tree grows, so do I. I don’t know what legend I heard there, but the children here will do it anyway, hoping that they will grow up with the trees. Now when I talk about that with my sister, I still snicker. Fortunately, it’s useless. If it really grows like a tree, wouldn’t it be a savage? hey-hey! However, there is nothing happier than going to grandma's house to get lucky money. Although it is only a few yuan, the happiness is unimaginable for today's children. After breakfast, in my mother’s words, the bullets flew out without being hit. My favorite prank is to buy some firecrackers and hide on the roadside with a few friends. When I see an adult passing by, I secretly throw one away. Whenever someone jumps, I just Will laugh happily.

Watching the adults bowing to each other and saying Happy New Year to each other, congratulations! Congratulations! The little friends will follow suit, but they are silently looking forward to growing up quickly. Red candles are shining brightly in every house, and every household is happy and peaceful. The little taste of the New Year in my memory is accompanied by the changes of the times and the transformation of the taste of the New Year. Still stubbornly lingering in the dusty memory, with endless aftertaste!

When the calendar on the table turned over New Year’s Day, I felt an inexplicable sense of loss. The Chinese New Year is getting closer and closer to me. I have long lost the joy of being at a loss as a child? I just feel that celebrating the New Year is just increasing my age! In today's transportation, no matter how far the road is, it feels like it's just a short distance away. With the development of science and technology, the Internet has made friends who are far away from each other just a screen apart. But the New Year flavor is no longer strong. On New Year's Eve, you will receive calls from your loved ones. Friends’ WeChat messages and friends you don’t usually contact will also appear on your phone. Most of them are sent in bulk. I really don’t bother sending messages in groups. I really want to ask the other person, do you know who you sent them to? Many times I want to reply: If you really think of me, can you give me a separate blessing? However, let’s think about it for a while, “They may have too many friends. They just want to treat everyone equally.” After understanding it this way, I feel relieved. It’s really a lot more fun and a lot more emotional!

Friends around me talk about the Chinese New Year. The most common word is the word "tired", "New Year's greetings are equivalent to public relations. Too many New Year greeting models have to go through careful consideration and close-interest formula calculations, condensing survival wisdom and practical strategies. Even a text message will be considered again and again whether it is appropriate." The size of a red envelope is related to the survival chips in the coming year. The Chinese New Year has naturally evolved into a public relations show for all walks of life." Looking at the Internet, the migrant workers at the train station are almost crowded. Feelings of emotion arose spontaneously. They are the real ones. They are the people who truly bring home the flavor of the New Year. They are the ones who can only leave the hard-working cities and workshops or dusty construction sites during the New Year. The Chinese New Year brings them closer to their family and mother's love from the distant phone! The Chinese New Year really gives them the opportunity to be affectionate. Only they can maintain the strong flavor of the New Year!

Time passes leisurely, year after year, maybe I am really old, or maybe I have fallen out of tune with the times. With enriched thinking, there are more worries? Are you materially wealthy but feeling irritable? I seem to have to find happiness in memories. The memory gradually becomes mottled and yellowed. The strong and colorful flavor of the New Year made my jumping thoughts become dusty in that era? It is as distant and ancient as the legend! But what is clearer is that I must let go of my sluggish thoughts and accept the faint taste of the current year. Slowly adapt, experience, and integrate! Lost Memories - Prose 4

I thought of these because I met a little demon recently.

The seemingly calm eyes concealed the fragility in my heart, but I couldn’t stop my joy. Knowing that she had classes in the afternoon, I couldn’t help but ask: "Can I come and listen?" She was tired and tired. She said softly, "Okay."

Meeting Xiaoyao is natural and accidental. People who are close to each other always have the opportunity to know who each other is, but it takes fate to truly know someone. At a celebration party that day, a person with a dark mentality deliberately embarrassed others, and his mood suddenly turned from sunshine to darkness. The little demon was sitting next to me and watched with a cold eye, and said: "She did this on purpose, you don't have to worry about it. If you care, you will be fooled."

Turning around to look at the little demon, I guess my eyes were full of tears at that moment. I never knew there could be anyone in this dangerous environment. Talk to me like this. The little demon said slowly: "You know, a bad person, you should pity her.

Because she is pitiful and can only prove her existence by hurting others. "That sentence spoken in such a scene can be remembered for the rest of my life. As time went by, I realized that the little demon always spoke so slowly, but what the little demon didn't know was that I was sad not because I met a bad person, but because I met a bad person. It was my stupid choice that caused such harm, and I cannot forgive myself.

Just as I cannot understand why some people can pretend to be innocent even though they are evil and rotten at heart. I also can’t understand how Xiaoyao can be both eccentric and quiet at the same time.

We went to Tianzifang on Taizhou Road with Xiaoyao and saw many works of art, but we only bought two. On her keychain, she said "I only wash dishes, not eat." My sentence is "I only eat, not wash dishes." "Xiaoyao really doesn't eat much, so I asked for that one. Since the purpose was not to go shopping, we spent most of the time sitting on chairs in a small bar on the roadside chatting. Xiaoyao's long hair shawl, and his clothes with holes in them made me envious. Damn it, let’s just say she has the taste of an artist. After all, Xiaoyao’s dream is different from that of ordinary people: she dreams of being able to perform in an opera.

Xiaoyao speaks very slowly, or in other words, she never speaks fast. , she once told me that when she was a child, her teacher complained to her mother: Every time your daughter stood up to answer a question, she always straightened her skirt first, then raised her head and spoke fluently, which made the teacher anxious. Yeah! When she slowly told the past, I was often made to laugh wildly, but she only smiled slightly. In my heart, Xiaoyao is the standard Jiangnan woman.

But I know. , the little demon is melancholy and lonely at heart, even when she is listening to me telling anecdotes, she is like this - a long lady's cigarette is curling between her fingers, and her beautiful big eyes are often Empty. Although she would say: I really admire your eloquent mouth, how can you say so many words? What I love most is the emptiness in her heart. /p>

When it comes to people and things that make me sad, Xiaoyao’s tears always come faster than mine. We talked until late that night before I sent her home. On the way, I asked her a little worriedly: Your mother-in-law doesn’t know how. Let me tell you. (The husband was on a business trip) Xiaoyao said quietly: "What do you think? A mother-in-law is still a mother-in-law. "That night, I watched her step into the dark building, and then looked back and saw me turning around, so I decided to call her Xiaoyao from now on. She happily accepted it and quietly told me: "My husband also calls me Xiaoyao. "

Xiaoyao is a very humorous person. One time she called me and she told me that she was taking a shower. After waiting for a long time, she still didn't come out. I sent a message and asked: "Are you counting your hairs? After a while, she replied: "I'll interrupt you. I counted it wrong. I have to count it again." "I was laughing so hard here, but she was calm as usual when she called me.

I once quietly sat in the back of the classroom and listened to her class, watching her talk about the history of the development of group dance very seriously. There was information about foreign group dances on the screen, but the children below refused to listen to the class. I had the urge to get angry. Talking about art with these children was like telling a little demon how many classes I had in a day. It will be very hard to get up and down. How can it be hard if you are just messing around? , so Xiaoyao’s class, like mine, is destined to be ununderstood and lonely. Some people once laughed at me when they saw how hard I was preparing for class: Do you need to tell the students this? (The subtext is that you will teach what you want to test? ? If you don’t take the exam, what’s the use of your teaching? )

Xiaoyao once took a week off to experience the heavy snow in the north, and asked her husband to accompany her to Beijing. I thought it was only in novels. I actually met this woman and became my friend.

I once cried while watching the movie "The Sun Is Like Me" alone, which reminded me of so many past events. There was a scene in the movie: When Will. After escaping from his own love, the psychological counselor told him his story: My wife (who has passed away) would fart when she went to bed at night. It was so loud that it woke up the dogs at home, but when she woke up She actually said it was me. I couldn't help but laugh when I thought about it. I thought she was really cute, and I would never have any regrets about knowing her. None of us are perfect and have flaws. But love makes us look for people who think we are perfect in their eyes, or they are perfect people in our eyes.

Love is like this, and friendship is like this.

It’s not only beautiful when you recall it, but it’s also beautiful when you experienced it. Zeng and Xiaoyao planned an opportunity for us to take a class together and perform music and literature together in the class.

But, but, all of this disappeared... The little demon escaped and escaped from all the troubles in this world. When I saw the emotional message on her Fetion text changed to "I was exterminated." I knew. , the little demon has been completely ruled by sadness. She took leave and no longer went to work, as if she had disappeared. No one knew how she was doing. I was upset that the psychological counseling knowledge I had learned was useless at this time...because I didn't know the source of her sadness.

That afternoon, I didn’t go to Xiaoyao’s class because I was afraid of disturbing her. Sometimes, alienation is also a kind of love.

Xiaoyao knows that she is as sensitive and vulnerable as me, but she still sends text messages like this: Don’t leave, okay? It's the same everywhere, I think, even in heaven, there are black angels.

I heard someone around me sighing at the talent of Xiaoyao, but someone said coldly: "What a pity, talented people always have flaws, God is fair to everyone." This sentence The words made me so angry that my hair almost stood up, and the words were on my lips: "I really don't know what God will use to compensate you for your lack of virtue!"

But, I don't, I can't bear it He couldn't help but feel sad. Maybe I have found the root of Xiaoyao's escape. In this environment, it is difficult for talented people to survive.

Probably out of jealousy, I think that’s for sure!

Thinking of Xiao Yao’s words: Don’t always think about the unpleasant things. Recall the beautiful people and things, and your heart will become soft and pure.

So I often review my memories. Lost Memories - Essay 5

The past is the most unbearable to look back on. Who has never been young, and who has never been frivolous when young. Life is impermanent. After waking up from a dream of prosperity, what is often unavailable is the most unforgettable. Often, The ones who are hurt the most are the ones I love the most. Every time I watch my former acquaintances put on someone else’s dowry one by one, every time I bless the fate that never belonged to me from afar. Everything is just a chance encounter. I can only save it for my old age in the future. Bitter memories.

Go to the alumni list again

I have been away from school for ten years and am returning home this year. Occasionally, I visit the Chinese people from those years and look at the dusty photos. Some fragments of the lost wind.

Looking at everyone’s messages and photos, it seems like yesterday has reappeared. The memories of childhood are like a wisp of breeze, like a cup of fragrant tea, warm and elegant. At that time, you Wear a skirt, I wear trousers. Many years later, when the prosperity of the city has blinded you and me, when busy business has become the only excuse, when the fluttering feelings have long been forgotten, take a look at the dusty photos and read After reading about the innocence of that year, here I just want to say one thing to all my old classmates: being able to know you is the most innocent memory in this life.

Broken Whip

Returning this year I met Qiu, the daughter of a primary school teacher, and remembered our head teacher, Mr. Li, who was very strict with me and almost expelled me. There was also Mr. Wang, who gave me a lot of criticism. I remember the most Once the pointer was broken, and I had to give one to the teacher. I went home and lied about doing something good to help the teacher make a stronger pointer. My uncle even helped me select the strongest wood. The bitter feeling of thinking about being beaten while working as a pointer is a shadow that I will never be able to erase in my life. When the children grow up, they will have to be sent to their classes.

Old classmate Qiu, Say hello to your mother for me. Once a teacher, always a father. Thank you for her words and deeds. Maybe so many years of wandering have made me accustomed to the coldness of the world, but she has given me so much love on the way to growing up. People who sincerely help, even if it is just a scoop of water when I am thirsty, or a small umbrella in a heavy rain, will always make me unforgettable. Lost Memory - Prose 6

End of the day I was studying and re-contacting some of the PS I had learned before. The teacher spoke too fast and sounded intermittent, which triggered the irritability factor. After my mood was relieved, I still found the video to watch at night. Watching it, I found the feeling of studying before. , I think memories will be broken as time goes by and need to be retrieved bit by bit.

If you indulge for a long time, you will easily get lost in comfort.

There was once a very important thing that I worked hard to pursue, but I felt very tired after chasing it. The too tight rhythm eroded my young and healthy body bit by bit. Some people said that my current His life and mental state are more like that of an old man, without the vitality that youth should have. I can't stand the irritation of my stomach, so I wake up at four or five o'clock almost every morning, no matter whether I go to bed early or late.

A life without pressure, immersed in books every day, watching history sink, watching others laugh and curse, occasionally admiring the sunset and looking at the stars, no self-blame, no whipping, only one who rises and falls with the Lord. My heart suddenly returned to its previous state, only to realize that comfort has another name and is lost.

Unknowingly, the invisible influence is gradually profound. The past is a space that cannot be turned back, and it is also an object that should not be taken out to ponder and caress at any time. The development of events has its own inevitability. Since it is inevitable, why bother to insist on why it is inevitable and why it exists. It is painful to be forgotten, but once the memory is lost, it means that it is time for it to be forgotten, and it is time for a new state to appear.

After running away for a long time, I always thought that what I was looking for would be something new and the future. When I thought about it, I realized that what I was looking for was just a way back. Return, return to the original heart, the origin of life. The course of human life is predetermined. From birth to death, there is no escape. No matter where you go, what scenes you see, and who you accompany, the beginning and end are all arranged.

If the memory has begun to fall apart, there is no need to look for it if it is lost. Lost Memory - Prose 7

One evening in the summer of 1947, a boy was born. The boy's father is a doctor. Although he is young, his medical skills are already well-known in the local area. He is also proficient in all kinds of music, chess, calligraphy and painting. The boy's mother is a lady, knowledgeable, courteous, gentle and virtuous. The two of them respected each other as if they were guests, and their relationship was extraordinary. The birth of the little boy brought endless joy to the family.

Such a family is the envy of many people around them. But something unexpected happened, and no one expected that this family would disappear overnight.

The boy’s father died of a heart attack on the way to the doctor. When the bad news reached home, the boy's mother burst into tears. No one could stop her. She cried for days and nights until people saw her again. She no longer cried, but smiled. She was crazy. , and he went crazy from then on.

How should a crazy woman live with a child under two years old! She is often seen wrapping her children in thick cotton coats during the hot season, or wearing only a thin layer of clothing when it is cold. But she regards her child as her life, holds her child in her arms every day, and never lets go.

After a year of this kind of life, seeing the boy’s health getting worse day by day, the boy’s grandfather became anxious. He was a lonely old man who couldn’t take care of himself, let alone take care of the child, so he had to step in to take care of the child. Gave it to someone else.

The family she gave it to is actually a relative. According to seniority, the boy should call her aunt, but now she has become his mother.

On the day he was sent away, the boy’s mother refused to let go until the boy was carried far away. She actually jumped into the river screaming. Fortunately, there were many onlookers and he was rescued immediately. But in the days that followed, her madness became even more severe. She stood at the intersection in a daze every day, constantly shouting the child's name.

Time flies, and the boy is already over five years old in a blink of an eye. Although his new family and new mother gave him a lot of warmth, there was still a memory in his young heart that could not be erased. Although that memory was vague, it clearly made him know that the person he thought about day and night was him. His mother, his biological mother!

He wanted to return to his mother, and his desire became stronger day by day.

He collected all the information related to his mother, and gradually learned from his neighbors that his original home was only more than 60 miles away from here. And he also knew his mother's current situation.

He began to save his pocket money. Although the train ticket home at that time was only 2.5 cents, he saved for half a year. The night he saved enough money for the ticket, he was so excited that he stayed up all night.

Early the next morning, while everyone was still sleeping, he quietly left and left the home that had raised him for several years.

I was a little reluctant to leave, but in the end the desire to see my mother defeated everything.

A child under six years old cannot even reach the ticket window. The conductor thought he was young and refused to sell him a ticket. He had no choice but to follow others secretly and squeeze into the car when no one was paying attention. The moment the train started, the boy's heart was beating fast. He was both nervous and excited: he could finally see the mother he had missed day and night! But in the huge crowd, can she be found? Everything ahead is unknown to him!

After getting out of the car, the boy relied on those scattered memories and the information he had learned to search slowly. He searched for several days. He was tired and hungry, and finally passed out on the roadside.

When I woke up, I found myself lying in a strange place, but beside me was the familiar face of my adoptive father. How could this happen? Could it be that he was taken back? He sat up with confusion and saw two strangers beside his adoptive father: one was a grandfather; the other was an aunt... but the face was so familiar, as if he had seen it in a dream.

"Child, why did you come back by yourself?" the adoptive father spoke, "We have been looking for you everywhere these days, and your mother was almost dying of anxiety. Later we thought you must have come looking for your biological mother. That's why I came here, and I found you on the roadside..."

The adoptive father pointed to the two people next to him and said: "Son, this is your grandfather; this... is... ...Your mother."

When the boy heard the word "mother", he couldn't control it anymore and burst into tears. Too many thoughts, too many grievances, all rushed into my heart at once. "Mom... Mom... I've had such a hard time looking for you. Why don't you want me? Why don't you want me?"

The woman's dull eyes suddenly shone brightly, "Son? My son ? Haha... Haha... My son is back!" She hugged the boy crazily and kept kissing his little face, "Son, mom misses you so much... No one can take me away. My son! My son is mine! You are not allowed to take him away!" She hugged the boy so hard that he could hardly breathe. But when everyone was about to pull them away, the boy shouted loudly: "Don't pull me! I want to be with my mother! Mom, please hug me, I'm not afraid of pain, I don't want to leave!"