星期日,百货大楼,熙熙攘攘。从楼上并排走下三个人。中间是一个很漂亮的男孩子,约莫有八九岁。他左手牵着爸爸,右手牵着妈妈。爸爸和妈妈是两个盲人。很小心很慢地踩着一阶一阶的楼梯。所有目睹的人立刻停止了脚步,闪开了一条路。喧闹声像绷断了弦的琴。一步、两步、三步……那男孩的眸子多明亮啊,漆黑漆黑的。他们一边走,一边说着,还有笑在三张脸上流。渐渐地,远了。三个人一双眼睛。而我,两只脚却像生根,纹丝不动了许久,思绪的羽翼却飞向了 Sunday, department store, bustling. Walk downstairs and walk down three people. In the middle is a very beautiful boy, about eight or nine years old. His left hand holding father, right hand holding her mother. Dad and mom are two blind people. Very slow to stepping on a first-order first-order stairs. All those who witnessed immediately stopped and opened the way. Noisy sound like a broken string of piano. One step, two steps, three steps ... The boy’s eye bright, dark dark. As they walked, they talked and smiled at three faces. Gradually, far away. Three people with a pair of eyes. And I, two feet are like rooting, motionless for a long time, thoughts of the wings but flew to