Old things is a love dog, she refused to follow.  Some things are not forgotten, but no longer remembered.  Old sweater to go, is the sarcophagus of stone bier, sleeping dead love.  He finds that she is his whole life to people Lunar Night Talk, so early, planned autumn and winter.And then, they are still young.  Is the cool autumn wind, the sun and warmth of the day, in the afternoon on the balcony, her shining map, clumsy, he learned to play a mohair sweater thick.Play a few needles, stop for a while, suddenly shook his head, is wrong, removed again.Smiled, big mouth small grain of rice dimples.  He remembered that wool is dark brown, warm as chestnut, hay or winter, she was holding a large ball of wool, like a peasant woman holding an entire autumn harvest.He often impulsive up a her in my arms, was steel needle several times.  Mid-autumn before the arrival, he has headed for excursion.Gradually, count on time poor call her phone rang and rang solitude, long time no one pick up.Family just did not elaborate, he finally make a determined effort to immediately buy air tickets to return home, his mother was gently sigh, in fact, do not blame her, the girls can not afford to be left with that piece of new lay sweater, stacked too opt for a full in the empty closet, silent, and he even had time to wear even once.After returnees, who have something to change jobs several times to throw, but hold a cuddle cuddle in the chest, still appropriateness and warm, always willing.Old things is a love dog, she refused to follow.  Then get her message is in the gap subway, strange number on the cell phone is Shimen, hear her voice after pick up, as if hit another fan darker Shimen, we can start it again?Signal off.  He slowly looked up, opposite a man, palpitation looked at him for a long time only to find it was released in the window of its own, and some things not to forget, but no longer remembered.That day, he was sitting on the station.  He, she hated it?Maybe some, a little, tiny glass chips, but he had eight miles overnight crossing, also in the morning and night, the wake was very painful.Isolated, lonely natural moat of weight, he understands, he forgave coward in front of all fate, because he had known he is not brave.  And he, once, in such a manner, she loved.  That night, the first time he shook out on the old sweater, stitch sparse, I do not know how many lose a needle, deep touch of color, texture is another demolished and another organization because of it?In my hands, but still thick, warm memories of the original.  Hesitantly, down from the head sets.Hey, not washed will shrink?At that time clearly than the amount of body.Neckline slimmer, make a big effort, earned only his head out of a deep hold your breath, reluctantly pulling the upper body, arms pick out, it cries loudly, from the right side of the armpit until completely frayed hem.  That moment, he very clearly in the mirror and saw the truth: a huge body reluctance to plug in a narrow sweater, packed taut, like a black bear wearing ordinary clothes, funny.He finally, did not return her phone.  He remembered, then hand in hand to buy wool mood, why should Brown?In the future you do not wear, you can also change it to the children Maoku.He also recalled her knitting sweater focus silhouette, mouth slightly open, a stitch silently remembered, baby on the needle, under the needle, the needle like a babbling.  But, even though he knew it, he had put on weight change, no longer wearing a sweater not enter the year.Like, he’s already married, heart and life have a place to return to, we can not and do not want to repeat past adrift.Old sweater to go, is the sarcophagus of stone bier, sleeping dead love.