I heard a sentence yesterday: Who is not a man without a story?

This reminds me of my senior three. Many people say that senior three is the most painful memory in life, and I definitely don't want to recall it in the future.

But it didn't seem long before I began to realize that there were many stories worth remembering.

In summer in the south, the weather is hot and rainy. It often rains before noon, and the playground is almost dry in the afternoon.

For me who like basketball, every time I go to physical education class, it's like being in an infinite sauna room.

Physical education class, a senior in senior three, is simply a piece of fat for teachers in all subjects. Fortunately, often one day a month, all subject teachers have a tacit understanding to stop occupying this class.

And whenever this day comes, I will be happier than going to primary school for a spring outing.

Several friends broke out in a smelly sweat on the playground and went back to the classroom to change clothes and prepare for dinner.

As a result, the particularly heavy rainstorm in summer arrived as scheduled.

Watching the bustling people in the dining hall line up at the door, it is raining heavily, which I don't like. I lay on the windowsill, eating apples and watching the whole rain quietly.

Looking at the female students running on the school road without umbrellas, the apples in their hands almost fell to the first floor.

A shy couple saw an umbrella in the shade, but they were afraid of being found by the teacher.

I saw the representative of English class in our class walking in a hurry in the school with an umbrella and a book in his right hand.

And that annoying high school math teacher, with wet hair and frown, just like my expression when I saw my math test paper.

Probably because I was too immersed in the rare leisure of senior three, it rained quickly. It seems that it didn't take long from heavy rain to falling.

So I have been lying on the balcony, eating apples one by one, watching the whole rain and people in the rain with the time of a rain and the price of a meal.

I never thought that this ordinary little thing would make me forget it for several years, and it is still beautiful to think about it now.

Most people are lazy. When we experience unforgettable or suffering, we often choose not to recall and forget some things we have experienced because of inertia or evasive mentality.

I haven't seen many people and read many books, but I have heard many stories and told myself many stories.

I know that the world is sometimes big and the road ahead is long, and the memories of the past are always sweet and fragrant.

But I think every time I think about it, I feel something.

That's good.