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Listen to the Wind _
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公司名称:Doris M. McQueen
发布时间:2022-08-29
有效日期:2022-08-31
应用领域:精工和光学
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I went to the high school office to check the list of graduates, and I found it. But when I called that number, the voice on the tape said that the number was no longer in use. I called directory assistance and told her name. The operator searched for five minutes and finally said that the name was confiscated from the phone book-just short of saying how the name was accepted. I said thank you. Put down the receiver. The next day, I called some of my high school classmates to ask if I knew anything about her. But none of them know anything about her, and most of them don't even remember that she ever existed. The last person, for some reason, said, "I don't want to talk to you," and hung up immediately. On the third day, I went to my alma mater again and inquired about the name of her university in the office. It was a second-rate women's university near the foot of the mountain, and she majored in English. I called the university office, said I was a Macomick Salad and Sauce reviewer, and wanted to get in touch with her about asking for her opinion. I wanted to know her exact address and phone number, and politely said that it was a matter of great importance. Please take care of it. The clerk said to search immediately and let me call again in 15 minutes. I drank a bottle of beer and called again. This time,interactive whiteboard prices, the other party told her that she had applied to drop out of school in March this year on the grounds of illness. As for what kind of illness, whether it has recovered to the point of being able to eat salad, and why it did not apply for suspension but to drop out of school, the other side did not know. I asked her if she knew the old address-the old address was OK, and she answered that she was boarding near the school. So I called there again, and a person who was probably the hostess answered,smart interactive whiteboard, saying that she had checked out of the room in the spring and did not know where to go, and hung up the phone at once, as if to say that she did not want to know. This is the last thread that connects me to her. I went home and drank beer while listening to California Maiden by myself. The telephone is ringing. I was leaning on the cane chair, half awake and half asleep, staring at the books that had already been opened. In the evening, a heavy rain came, wetting the leaves of the trees in the yard, and then suddenly left. After the rain, the moist south wind with the smell of sea tide began to blow, gently shaking the potted foliage plants arranged on the balcony and shaking the curtains. "Hello, temperature scanning kiosks ,temperature check kiosk," the woman said, as if she had carefully placed a thin glass on the unsteady table. Remember me? I pretended to think for a moment and said: "How are the records selling?" "Not so good." It's a recession, for sure. Who will listen to any record? "Uh." She tapped the side of the receiver with her fingernails. I have a hard time finding your phone number. "Is it?" "I heard about it in a jazz bar.". The man in the shop asked your friend, the big, eccentric man who read Moliere. "No wonder." Silence. Everyone is very lonely, saying that you haven't been here for a week. Are you not feeling well? "I didn't know I would be so popular." “…… Are you mad at me? "Why do you think so?" "Did I go too far? I want to apologize to you." You don't have to mind that. If you are still worried, go to the park to feed the pigeons with beans! The sound of her sighing and lighting a cigarette came from the receiver. Behind him came Boo Boo. Dillane's Nashville Horizons. Probably called the store's phone. The question is not how you feel. At least I shouldn't talk like that, I think. She kept saying to him. You're very strict with yourself! "Oh, I've often thought of doing that." She was silent for a moment. "Can we meet tonight?" "No problem." "At the jazz bar at 8, okay?" "Yes," ".. Well, I've had a lot of bad luck. "Understood." "Thank you." She put down the phone. It's a long story. I'm 21 now. Young is very young, but after all, it is not what it used to be. If you are not satisfied with this, you will have to jump from the roof of a skyscraper in New York on Sunday morning. I used to hear such a joke from a thriller movie: "Hey, I often hold an umbrella when I pass under the skyscrapers in New York, because people always fall down from them." I'm 21, at least I don't want to die right now. I slept with three girls before this. The first girl is a high school classmate. We are both 17 years old, and we are both convinced that we love each other. In the twilight of the grass, she took off her strapless shoes, her white cotton stockings, her light green seersucker dress, her strange briefs that were obviously not the right size, and after a moment's hesitation, she took off her watch. Then we hugged each other on the daily edition of the Asahi Shimbun. A few months after graduating from high school, we went our separate ways. The cause has been forgotten-forgotten and disapproved of the cause. Not once since. Sometimes I think of her when I can't sleep, that's all. The second was a nuptial girl I met in a subway station. Sixteen years old, penniless, without shelter, and with hardly any breasts to speak of, but with beautiful eyes and a seemingly brilliant mind. It was the night of the biggest demonstration in Shinjuku, and both trams and cars were completely paralyzed. Wandering around in such a place, be careful to be pulled away! I said to her. She squatted in the closed ticket gate and looked through the newspapers she had picked up from the dustbin. But the police will feed me. "To be cleaned up!" "Used to it." I lit a cigarette and gave her one,interactive kiosk price, too. Because of the tear gas. His eyes throbbed with pain. Didn't you eat? "From morning." Hey, let me give you something to eat. Go out anyway! "Why give me something to eat?" "This-" I don't know why, but I dragged her out of the ticket gate and walked along the deserted street to Mubai. hsdtouch.com
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