我的记忆会老的,故事会老的,可是很多年以后,风再像那时—样翻动纸页,蔷薇的幽香仍然扑面而来。我高中时候的前座是一个梳着马尾的女生,个子比我矮一点,说话喜欢摇头晃脑。有一天正上着课,她忽然伸手绕到脑后,把马尾散掉了。我坐在她后面,目瞪口呆地看着她重新歪歪扭扭,一边一个地梳了一对小学生才会梳的双马尾。老师正讲课到一半,都停下来看了她一眼,粉笔在黑板上写的数字歪了一下。下课以后,她还得意洋洋地跟我说:“怎么样, My memory will be old, the story will be old, but many years later, the wind again like that time - like turning the page, rose fragrance still blowing. When I was in high school, the front seat was a pony-tailed girl, a little shorter than me, talking like shaking his head. One day she was in class, she suddenly reached out to her hand and scattered the horsetail. I sat behind her, stunned to see her re-crooked, while combing a pair of primary school students will comb the double tail. The teacher was speaking halfway through the class, stopped and looked at her, and the chalk on the blackboard crooked. After class, she also triumphantly said to me: ”how,