The night is already deep. Although my eyelids have been fighting, I still hold back my sleep, frowning, looking at a blank sheet of paper in front of me. Maternal love, this is an old topic, how to write it? My mother has not said anything to me, I love you, and I have not made any earth-shattering events that made me feel tears, what should I do? The door was opened very lightly Marlboro Gold, and the mother gently walked in and placed a sharpened apple on my desk. She leaned over and touched my hair and said softly: "Put the apple. Write it quickly, write well and sleep." When the mother came, she gently left me to chew the apple and let my thoughts spread. Otherwise, write a terminally ill mother to try to conceal her illness so that her son can study with peace of mind Parliament Cigarettes. This subject is touching enough. However, space is too old, and it is very practical. It seems to be deliberately fabricating facts. I thought about one subject after another, but each one failed like the previous one. At this time, the mother came in again, the footsteps were lighter, and there was a thick milky fragrance. She put a cup of hot milk in front of me, and the milk was steaming, and immediately the paper in front of me was blurred. "I haven't finished it yet?" the mother whispered. "Or, write it tomorrow, don't be too late, pay attention to rest." "Know it, I know." I waved impatiently and motioned for her. . The mother snorted and slowly left me to take a sip of hot milk, and immediately there was a hot stream that passed to my fingers. When I picked up the pen and got an idea, I made up a story about a mother giving her daughter an umbrella in the rain. Although this subject is older, it has been reprinted by me for countless times, but at least it should be very handy to write. I started writing. Although the idea is very smooth, I always feel that there is something missing in the text, just like a The body of the soul is just a walking dead, and no one will be emotional. I changed a piece of paper, wrote the word mother, and began to think about another subject Marlboro Red. Maybe it was dark at night, the thin one I wore, I couldn't help but hit two sneezes, and the door was gently opened again. The mother��s footsteps were a little anxious. She had a coat in her hand and some blamed it. ��How do you sneeze? Wear so little, don��t catch a cold.�� My thoughts were interrupted again, feeling Very annoyed: "What are you doing again, my composition has not been finished yet." The mother stood up and looked a little overwhelmed: "I heard you sneezing and worried that you are frozen, so I found you a coat." I felt so twitching in my heart, looking back at my mother, somehow, in the dim light Cigarettes For Sale, the mother looked very old, the hair that had been so soft had a little white hair, and the crow's feet in the corner of the eyes increased significantly Marlboro Cigarettes. The anger disappeared all at once, and I regretted my attitude towards my mother: "Mom, you haven't slept yet." The mother smiled slightly: "I am not sleepy, leave me alone, or finish my homework and go to bed early!"