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雷声轰响。我独自站在顶楼,天空乌云密布,大雨倾盆。自空中劈下的闪电仿佛在一次次地提醒我那个刺眼的“7”字。向下望去,繁忙的街道上好像永远都有嘈杂的车流。模糊不清的视线内总是隐隐透着点点灯光。70分,很值得庆贺吗?都鸣笛干什么?是不是要我准备礼花鸣放?我蹙着眉头,大脑烦躁地运转着。为什么?那么多的努力换来的是可憎的70分?我茫然,无奈,更悲愤!忽而低头,看见了一只可怜的小蚂蚁。它正倔强地在窗台外爬着,豆大的雨珠已经砸断了它的一条腿。它歪歪扭扭地挪动着身体,在已湿的窗台上留下一串不明显的痕迹。
Thunder I stood alone on the top floor, the clouds were cloudy and the rain was pouring. Lightning lightning split from the air seemed to repeatedly remind me that dazzling “7 ” word. Looking down, there seems to be noisy traffic on the busy street forever. Blurred vision always reveals a little light. 70 minutes, is it worth celebrating? All whistle? Is not to prepare me to fireworks? I frowned, the brain irritably. Why? So much effort in exchange for the detestable 70? I lost, frustration, more anger! Suddenly bowed, saw a poor little ant. It is stubbornly crawling out of the window sill, the large raindrops of beans have smashed one of its legs. It moved crookedly, leaving a trail of unobvious marks on the wet windowsill.