在我家楼下,你会看见一家临街的小店,小店有多古老,准也说不清,店里只有一位老得不能再老的老人。他,干瘦干瘦的,仿佛一阵轻风就可以将他吹倒,在那干瘪的嘴里,几颗老玉米粒似的牙齿似乎随时都会因一阵笑声而掉落,两只眼睛就像沙窝般深陷入眼眶,远远望去就像两只乌黑的深洞。小店的摆设也与他很般配,墙壁不知经过多少年的熏灼,早已认不清本来的面目,在那黄得发黑的橡木台后,堆满了日用品。虽然小店的摆设不整洁,但 Downstairs in my house, you will see a shop in the street, the store how old, prospective can not tell, there is only one shop in the old can not be the old man. He was skinny and thin, as if a gust of wind would blow him down, and in that dry mouth a few old corn-grain-like teeth seemed to fall off at any moment with a burst of laughter, and both eyes were like sand-like Deep into the eyes, from afar looks like two dark deep holes. Shop furnishings are also very fit with him, the walls do not know how many years after the smoldering, has long been unable to recognize the original face, in that dark yellow oak platform, filled with daily necessities. Although the store’s furnishings untidy, but