There are many types of friends. Friends who grew up playing with mud and wearing open-ended pants are called "childhood children".

Because there are very few friends around me at the same level, even I have four friends: Xi, Qing, Qin and me. There are two or three things that I still remember in my memory, just one for everyone:

I remember that He Qing quarreled the most times, but the funniest thing was that after a few days of arguing, he asked his brother to give me a small note with a picture on it. Two little people shook hands and wrote: Make up.

Where's Chin? He transferred from other places halfway through, and arranged to sit at the same table with me. Not long after, the teacher heard him saying dirty words and asked him who he learned it from. The guy actually said he learned it from me. I was wronged. I was beaten up by the teacher.

Regarding Xi, the thing he remembers most is ink. I took a calligraphy class and asked him to get some ink. The lid was opened, but I didn't know there was a stopper inside. I squeezed and squeezed hard there, and I thought I couldn't get out. Then I only heard a "bang" sound, pity my white shirt.

It's a pity that among them, Xi, the "brother" who played the most and had the same good relationship when he grew up, had already separated us from each other in the car accident five years ago. During this period, I always think of him from time to time. Many things that happened when I was a child were like playing a movie, playing in my mind.

When I think about it, I always feel sad... Life is so fragile...

In fact, there are many things... But I can't put it into words...