十七岁的盛夏那么轻易地就匆匆逝去,我的高三,终于来了。寝室走廊里充盈着属于过去的潮湿气息,仿佛还是艺术生们离开的那个寒假,江心迎面走过来,背后的光芒逆着给她打上一道温暖的光晕。“吴越,我走啦。”她把箱子的手柄放下,很夸张地张开双臂。我眼眶一热,赶紧配合地用浮夸的慢动作向她冲去,紧紧拥抱她。隆冬,我们都穿着看似轻盈的羽绒服,然而我感觉自己像抱着一团空气。 Seventeen-year-old mid-summer so hurriedly passed away, my third year, finally came. The bedroom corridor filled with the humid atmosphere of the past, as if the art students who left the winter holidays, Jiang Xin came across from the back of the light against her to put a warm halo. “Wu Yue, I’m going. ” She put the box handle down, very open arms. My eyes a hot, quickly with the grandiose slow motion rushed to her, hug her tightly. Winter, we all wear seemingly light down jacket, but I feel like holding a mass of air.