Crimson Garland

A chorus ended quickly, and even the teacher had no time to comment, and the bell rang for the end of get out of class.

The school didn't have the habit of procrastinating, so the comments had to be left until the next class, and the temporary choir in front of the stage broke up immediately.

Facing the crowds going out, I headed towards the seat. After returning to the seat, I didn't sit in it. Instead, the inspector pulled out the book and bag from the drawer, stood by the aisle and stuffed everything into the bag.

If she didn't go in, it would be difficult for H, who was seated inside, to go in, so he had to stand on the outside with his eyes closed, fumbling in the drawer and stuffing it into his backpack.

After class was over, everyone was rushing out of the classroom, and the crowd formed a mess in front of the narrow door of the trapezoidal classroom.

I still didn't say anything, she took a last look at h beside her, closed her bag, and walked down the stairs slowly.

Hey, is this over?

H looked at her back with some pity, and began to regret his shyness.

Why can't you just grab her with a smile like those cheerful and outgoing girls, ask her name, and ask for her number?

Forget it, this kind of thing still can't be done.

H watched the back of i disappearing into the crowd at the door, and clenched his backpack somewhat dejectedly.

The mess in the backpack was all because I was too anxious just now. H didn't like this mess at first, so he just stood where he was, took the things out again, and planned to put them neatly again.

There are very few things, just a notebook, a pen, a glass of water and... a book.

But when she took out the book, she was dumbfounded.

At the same time, I also walked downstairs to the teaching building.

It was already 09:30 at night, and the sky had lost any brilliance, only a few rows of street lights in the distance were left to illuminate the crowded crowd.

The satchel was a bit messy, and the edges and corners of the book caught my ribs on the side of my body.

After walking a few steps, the harsh feeling became more obvious.So she finally opened the bag and took out the book.

The light on the road was too dark, and I couldn't see clearly for a while.But she still clearly sensed something was wrong.

No, the thickness is wrong, the texture of the cover is wrong, the hardness and size are wrong.

This is not my book. I was a little puzzled, until she finally walked out of the dark path and stepped onto the bright road, she didn't fully see what she was holding.

The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway.

It is indeed not her book, but I vaguely remember, isn't this the book that was brought by someone sitting next to her?

Thinking about it, I got a headache.

I don't know the name, I don't know the class, and it's impossible to know where the dormitory is.

I found that although I was holding the other party's book in my hand, I still knew nothing about the other party.

How about paying attention to her next time in class, finding her, and returning it to her.

Thinking of this, I still feel a little uncertain.

The classroom is too big and there are too many people.The experience of sitting together by chance today may be only once, who knows if they will be able to find each other next time?