那天早晨的柴劈得比平时多。
沈微把斧子放下时,院角那堆劈好的柴已经码到了他的腰。他在心里数了数,够烧四五天,多出来的那些他没管,只是把斧子挂回墙钩上,拍了拍袖子上的碎屑,往伙房走。
老炊已经在灶前了,正在洗米,没有抬头,只是说:劈多了。
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