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Can you tell me the story of your smoking

God sent each of us a cigarette. Maybe we can't choose the brand, but we can decide the mood and posture of smoking. The key lies in our own hands, whether it is to finish in a hurry, or to taste it slowly; to regard this as a enjoyment or a burden. There is also a point I firmly believe that, like cigarettes, the meaning of life is to burn, although the end of burning is ashes. But this little book is not such a heavy topic for its readers. In fact, it's like a cigarette you light at will. This cigarette is neither as rebellious as Sanwu tobacco nor as soft as Moore's. it is neither warm nor fire, nor bitter and sweet. Its greatest ambition is to accompany you through a tiring noon, to pass a boring time when waiting for someone or a meeting, and to be a little comfort in your busy but frustrated life., although you do not want to treat the "paper trumpet" as if it were my broom, but also do not have to treat it as a cigar treasure. Please read it with the most casual posture of life. It doesn't hurt to turn in the toilet, lie in bed without washing feet, or even watch a soap opera while reading melon seeds. Because as long as you are happy, it must be relaxed. Xiao Ming's father is a famous butcher. In his favor, Xiao Ming is tall and strong, but he has no strength to tie a chicken. One afternoon after school, some mischievous classmates hid by the wall and smoked cigarettes quietly. Just as they were in the fog of Yunshan, Xiaoming suddenly appeared and was scared to death. "Well, you stupid pig, how dare you ruin my brother's happiness, brothers, beat me up!" One of them spoke out of the blue. Xiaoming listened, flustered and said, "wait a minute! Don't rush to do it. Look at my muscles. None of you want to take advantage of it. Hum "Who can you beat like a bear?" A thin monkey like to rush in front, said while pushing Xiao Ming. Xiaoming stepped back a few steps, but he couldn't stand still. He sat down on the ground without thinking of supporting the ground with his hands. He pushed up his nose and smelled the smell of stink. He also felt something wet and sticky on his hands. He could not help looking for his eyes. All of a sudden, his face turned white. "Oh, my God! My God! I've stepped on the shit Xiao Ming was so anxious that he squeezed out a few tears. When wiping the tears, he said to himself a few words, but he could not say it clearly. He just got up and threw down a sentence: "I'm going to find Dad! Hum -- "he ran away.