Women used to be with men, and they lived a carefree life every day. Women used to be lazy and didn’t like doing laundry and housework, but for men, she washed every piece of clothing by hand, and she cleaned up the house every day. Clean and waiting for the man to come back, so they live together. Men work from 9 to 5 every day, and have no time to accompany women, while women accompany men peacefully and wait for men, but there are always some things that cannot be covered on paper. One day a woman was cleaning a man's wardrobe and found another woman's chain. At first, the woman was silent and did not ask the man. Later, the woman found a pair of wooden bracelets, and the woman was silent and did not ask. Finally, one day, the woman and The ambiguous information of netizens chatting was seen by the man. The man was very angry and asked the woman what happened? The woman did not answer.
Man: Did you go out drinking again?
Woman: Yes! I'm in a bad mood today, so I went out for a drink.
Man: Can you not drink every day, even if you have a heart attack yourself?
Woman: You don't know how to accompany me when you go to work every day! I wait for you to come back in this rental house every day.
Man: You don't know that I'm here on business!
Woman: What do you take me for?
Man: I take you as my favorite woman, you are beautiful, what else do you have except your appearance?
Woman: You have never loved me. Your love is only for my appearance. You are willing to spend money on me because of my appearance.
Man: Your education is not high, your job is not good, and your salary is too low. Guess what else?
Woman: I see, so be it! Let's break up.
Man: I'm going back to Beijing. After I leave, take good care of yourself.
Woman: I don't care if you love me or not, I at least love you, I'll wait for you to come back!
The first wait was more than three years, and the man was silent. The woman draws circles on the calendar every day, waiting for the man's return. Finally, in the summer of 2013, the man came back, but there was a little boy beside the man. The man kindly said, I'm back, let you wait for a long time. Now, this is my son Huanhuan. His mother died in a car accident last year. I brought Huanhuan back this time to tell you not to wait for me. You should marry a man who treats you well. We can't be together in this lifetime. Because I never loved you. The woman cried and asked the man: Why are you doing this to me. Turned around and left.
Lightning flashes and thunders outside the window, and the thunder and rain are all over the place. The woman walks alone in the rain. She recalls how innocent and ignorant she was when she was young. She recalls the bits and pieces of being with men, and the tears cannot be held back. Going down, she asked herself what I got , In the world of love, this woman has endured too much, so this story can give unmarried women a piece of advice: don't live together unmarried, and don't easily give yourself to any man, the object can be dated, but only with you The man who got the marriage certificate is the husband. Only the man who is willing to accompany you for the rest of your life is your real son. I also want to warn men: you can't bear this woman's past, and you don't deserve to have the best of her. .
About the Creator
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins4 days ago in Fiction
OF MOTHERHOOD.
Dear mother-to-be, I wanted to let you know how very, very special I think you are. I don't think there can be any job that is more meaningful than the one you are about to begin, that of being a mom. You are the most important person in the world to your precious unborn baby, and you will be for many years.
By Catherine Nyomenda5 days ago in Writers
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