I was cleaning out an old box when an old card caught my eye: Queen City Casket Company. “What is it?” I wondered. I 1 手写的) 2 . Immediately my mind traveled 3 many years. it over. There, in faded ink, was a hand-scrawled (
I was nine years old, walking down the cold, wet streets of Springfield, with a bag of magazines on my shoulder. On my 4 that day, I came to that Company finally, whose owner, Mr Rader, had always taken me there to ask his workers 5 they wanted any magazines
