Shoeshine Friends

I know the price of his shoes. I know that his usual lunch is two buns plus a glass of water. I also know that he lives in the small hotel for two nights. I also know that he only bought half a roast chicken for himself during the new year.

He was a shoeshine boy. I met him by chance.

On the busy streets of Jiefang Road, there are often his flowing backs and happy songs.

At noon that afternoon, I went out to dinner, and I saw him again. He sat on the sidewalk and buried his head as usual.

In the early spring, he looked thin and thin.

I stopped beside him. He looked up at me and laughed immediately.

"How did you come?"

He asked.

"Oh, I go to KFC to eat, pass by here..."

I said without thinking.

He nodded his head, picked up his small stall, and patted the dust on his face. He said, "let's go, Kentucky."

I was embarrassed, but the joy of moving forward stopped me from trying to stop him.

"KFC" is not far away, only a few steps to arrive.

He pushed the door in, and immediately attracted everyone's attention - the thin, slightly developing trunk with obvious growth, wrapped in worn and stained clothes, a hair covered in his oily dirt, and wearing a pair of broken shoes with dust that had long been out of shape, so standing in a bright and clean restaurant was so out of place.

But he laughed, as if ignoring the existence of these visions.

After hesitating for a moment, he turned to me and asked, "how?

I've never been here before. "

I woke up and walked over to the counter, but he stopped him.

"I invite you, really, I can afford it."

He raised his chest, which was not strong, with a solemn expression on his face, and then went to the counter.

He studied the price list and said to the surprised but smiling lady, "please give me two packages."

He is as polite as a gentleman.

I stood there idly watching him take out his money from his arms. The wrinkled little tickets were carefully arranged by him. He counted them one by one, and put the money on the counter solemnly in many surprising eyes.

I know the price of his shoes. I know that his usual lunch is two buns plus a glass of water. I also know that he lives in the small hotel for two nights, and I know he bought himself half a roast chicken in the new year.

I stood in front of the counter, looking at everything in front of me with some curiosity, and a peaceful smile on my face.

I suddenly remembered that when we first met, he stood in front of me, the undisguised curiosity and eager expression.

I dare say that we were the most eye-catching restaurant at noon that day.

A fashionable girl sitting with a shoeshine boy was eating chicken nuggets. Maybe I would be surprised to see it myself.

But his serenity infected me, and in all kinds of eyes and whispers, I finally felt calm.

As soon as he finished eating, he suddenly said, "don't tell people you have a friend who wears shoes."

I was surprised and asked him why.

He lowered his head and fiddled with the salad. After a long time, he said, "people will laugh at you."

My tears rushed up.

And he slowly raised his head and looked out of the window.

In tears, I saw a peaceful smile on his eyes.

Since then, in many days, I will think of that tiny figure and think of his peaceful smile standing in the staggered net.

At this time, I can not help saying: "I have a good friend, is the leather shoes......"