I didn't understand it.

She sat quietly all day and never talked to others. So, I always thought that - her bloom is only in her own world.

She is a mentally retarded girl, dragging her long ponytail, pouting, sitting in the corner of the class with a sallow face. Sitting is a day. No one spoke to her, I don’t know if I didn’t want to talk or what. She does not speak, as if it is a fresh air, no, the air is sometimes breathed, but she seems redundant. In fact, I don't understand her.

Time flies, it seems that there is no trace, but the image of her name shouting is deeply engraved in my heart.

There is a game in the class, there is a program called "black hair pick up", the whole class girl has her black and bright hair, so the game seems to be specially tailored for her. She stepped onto the podium and started at the prompt of the number of hosts. Her thick hair swayed, like a jade lotus with a lingering scent, slowly unfolding the color, revealing a fresh aroma. The students looked at it and let her do it over and over again. Finally, she blushes and steps down. She is afraid of being dizzy. She is standing for a while. She stepped down, the bean's sweat fell off her cheek, and she walked past me with her chest. She called me my name, and I cruelly deliberately ignored it, as if everyone had forgotten it. Her simplicity and dedication.

I didn't have a real communication with her until a run. She didn't know how to opportunistically, the leader ran wildly, and she ran wildly, eventually getting tired and panting. I

I can't help but feel a bit disgusting. I know that the sport I hate most is running. She walked past me again, shouting out my name and asking me how? I was still worried. She handed me a bottle of mineral water, moved hard and left, and I thought it was a greeting.

Suddenly remembered that she smiled at me every day, greeting me every day, helping me to date. Later, I realized that she was because of my whimful greetings. And I never thought of her as my friend.

Her kindness, simplicity, and innocence are in contrast to my indifference. It turned out that I didn't understand her.

I didn't understand it. The bloom of Yulian is not self-styled, but blooms in our world.

The second day: scented scorpion ghost