2 first met

In 2005.

That morning heavy rain, most of the students were blocked in the halfway way, the city issued an emergency suspension notice, I just bask to this point out of the door, the results did not enjoy the cool for a while, quiet was disturbed.

Seven-year-old Ann patted her shoes under the bus stop and shook the water from her hair: "Sir, it's raining hard."

"Sir?" Hearing this, I was momentarily stunned.

I frowned once, look straight ahead, do not trace of hope next to hide a step, the refusal was obvious.

Ann did not care, pattering, leaning over.

The splash of muddy water rained on the gray corduroy trousers, which looked particularly obvious. My forehead jumped, and FINALLY I could not help turning my head, but I was surprised to a pair of shining eyes

-- as the Modamento stones I collect.

It's you.

"Sir, I know you from somewhere!"

She said firmly, with excitement, like she found a big secret, the bow in the head dancing happily.

I could not laugh or cry in my heart, but on the face, pretending to be serious: "Your parents didn't tell you, do not talk to strangers?"

She said, "I don't think you're a bad person."

I laughed: "If the bad guys can be seen so easily by you, why do you need the police?"

She cocked her head as if trying to think of a rebuttal. At this time, a blue bus cut through the rain, the orange lights of the front seem to disperse a bit of cold and dark, mechanical hum in the brush sound is particularly obvious.

She ran back to me, slipped me a piece of candy, and waved goodbye to me again. Her clear, bright eyes held me back for a moment. I saw her line, the vermilion line circling twice around her tiny body in one direction.

I still can't figure out why those eyes can be moist, sad and lonely.