那天飘洒着雨,我家的大门轻轻地开了,走进来一位中年邮递员。只见她全身衣服已经湿透了,裤腿也卷得高高的,从膝盖到脚全沾满了污浊的泥水,那模样好像刚从烂泥地里爬起来似的。她手里捧着一包用黑色油布包着的邮件,顾不上抹一抹脸上的雨水,就对我家的里屋叫开了:“小王同学,你在么?你征订的《儿童文学》《少 That day drifting rain, my door gently opened, came in a middle-aged postman. I saw her body clothes have been wet, and legs are also rolled high, from the knee to the feet full of dirty muddy water, it looks like just got up from the mud in the mud like. Her hand holding a packet of mail wrapped in black tarpaulin, despite the wipe of a touch of rain on his face, called on my house: ”Xiao Wang classmates, what are you? Your subscription of“ children’s literature ”"less