After work, although life is like being copied and pasted repeatedly, going out and entering the door, minutes and seconds are not wrong; and even though work is like entering programming, opening eyes and closing eyes, minutes and haos are not bad, but I get up like my mother, and I rush and deal with it greedily, so that the number of times to report "safety" to my mother's parents at home is less and less. Until the mother like an overload operation and early wear and tear excessive old machine, no longer rotating in the field, will overdraw like a dead leaf body quietly lying in the hospital. I only run to the hospital three times a day, but in such a cold and white ward, I really can't shout the warm "Mom, I'm back."<br>
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