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恋爱是一种病,有它那一套独特的魂牵梦萦的思绪。瞧瞧,那个为情所困的可怜人儿吧:一会儿躺在沙发上,一会儿仰卧在席梦思上,除了偶尔从近乎绝望的深渊中长叹一声外,几乎连呼吸都要停止了;一会儿伫立“花前月下”,引颈翘首,一会儿焦躁不安,满腹怨艾地围绕约会地点作圆周运动。面色一阵苍白,一阵通红。哎呀!你给刺扎了吗?是什么倒刺或小昆虫把你蜇得这么厉害?或许是一封情书,或许是一个电话,或许是远游回归的信息,或许是一个
Love is a disease, it has a unique set of thoughts dreaming about. Let’s see, the poor man trapped in love: while lying on the couch, while lying on the Simmons, and occasionally sighing in the abyss of near despair, it almost ceases to breathe; and for a while, , Eagerly, for a while restless, full of grievances around the dating sites for circular motion. Pale while looking pale while flushed. What a barbed or small insect sting you so much? Perhaps a love letter, perhaps a phone call, perhaps the message of return, perhaps a