I once met an apple. A red apple.When I was young, I went to junior high school. My deskmate was a blushing boy.Also blushing when brawling.I quarreled with him many times, and he apologized every time.I also secretly felt that he was very gentlemanly. Later, the teacher adjusted his position and I separated from him.That afternoon, the sun was shining. I rode to school and thought of something far away. I suddenly remembered him. He left in the morning and moved to the third group. I don��t know name necklace why, my heart was empty, like a room that had not been cleaned for a long time.

When I came to costume jewelry the classroom, I saw a new deskmate, a boy who had not said a few words to me. Inadvertently, I turned https://www.lovmer.com my eyes to him. He was talking and laughing with his new deskmate.When I got to my seat, I finally breathed out, not for anything, but because I couldn't see him from that angle. When I put my hand into the drawer to pick up the book, I met a comforting cool thing - an apple. There is a note on it, which says "give you", and a smiling face. The familiar handwriting is his.

I didn't smile, but I thought I had an apple tree growing in my heart. But the biggest and reddest apple just fell in my hand. It was mine.I didn't eat it, I didn't pull off the note, I just carefully put it in the sandwich and took it home.When I got home, I didn't eat it either. I just put it on the bookcase with the side of the note facing out. It is so red and full, like a poem of Browning. I looked at it as if I read the word on the apple and read a heart that was so red and full.I can't remember how I spent those days. I just remember that I couldn't see him in my seat because of the angle problem. I only had a glimpse of him when I passed custom necklaces the book. He was still like that. He blushed. He knew some math problems that girls couldn't do. He would personalized necklace giggle silly at the teacher. But the quarrel between us never happened again. In those brief turns, I heard my heartbeat for the first time.

Every day when I go home, I talk to that apple, the Apple maybe tired of hearing? The little girl's trifles, the little girl's heart. But the apple was still a good-tempered apple with a fragrance and an attractive luster, like a silver bowl with a secret of rice.Gradually, every time I passed the fruit stand and saw the apple, I thought of him, of his bright smile, of his blush when he quarreled. Simple, just like an apple.When the apple was completely rotten, I left the note, but there were spots on it. It was the footprint of an apple left to the world.