Yesterday afternoon, my wife met a former co-worker of mine, dragging the handlebars of an electric car into my house, and I was still shaking my head at my enthusiastic wife and co-workers.
Since I had dragged him to the house, I found a cigarette to honor him, but I did not smoke it myself, and while reaching into the basket to pick peanuts and peel off the shell for seeds, I chatted with him, and my wife and a neighbor also participated in the conversation.
The co-worker was sloppy and witty, witty and simple, and I was not good at talking to him, and my mouth was hanging up, remembering the old things, planning new plans, and the jacket on my body was open without pulling the chains, and then I was full of heat, and even my arms were sweaty, and my cheeks were feverish. But the female neighbor actually said cold, thinking that the conversation had such a magical effect of driving away the cold and replenishing the warmth.
Sure enough, I went to her house after dinner and saw that a fire had been built in her house.
![Japanese cartoonists complained that the female neighbor next door screamed every night, and netizens said that this is not me[fig]](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAP///wAAACwAAAAAAQABAAACAkQBADs=)