I remember when I was in elementary school (no way, it’s so profound that I still remember it even now), I forgot whether my father or mother bought me a new pencil box. The pencil box is pink. There are many buttons, a ruler pops up and a grid pops up. I believe many children born in the 1980s will remember it.
I only remember that I was very happy, and put it on the desk to greet the envied eyes of the students.
At that time, there was a little bully in the class who wanted to destroy classmates’ belongings.
I can’t remember exactly how the dispute arose. I just remember that he snatched my pencil case and threw it on the ground. Then he stomped on my beloved pencil case. I was very sad. He was indifferent no matter how he begged him, he still stepped on gloating, and it didn't take long for the pencil case to be completely unrecognizable.
Seeing his gloating expression, I cried, and there was only one thought in my head. I gritted my teeth thinking about revenge. I wanted revenge. I wanted revenge...
I picked up my chair and couldn't control it and hit him on the head. Twice and three times...
He is now a taxi driver. He goes home occasionally, bumps into his car, and refuses to charge me all the time.
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