My mom learned to use Pinduoduo last month.

First order, nine yuan nine mop.
Second order, six yuan eight dishcloth.
Third order, a box of apples, fifteen yuan.
On the day it arrived, she was as happy as a child.
Last weekend I went home. The balcony was piled up.
Three mops. Twenty dishcloths.
Two boxes of apples, half of which were rotten.
I helped her clean up.
I turned over a delivery slip.
Recipient: Son.
The address was my rental from three years ago.
She didn’t ask me for the new address. She didn’t send it out either.
Just left it on the balcony, stacked with those mops.
I tore off the slip. I saw the note section.
A line of small print printed by the merchant.
“Son, I’ve tasted these apples, they’re sweet.”
I squatted on the balcony, looking at the box of half-rotten apples.
She peeled the rotten parts, saying they’re still edible.
I didn’t say anything.
Changed her default address to my current residence.
The car drove out of the community.
That delivery slip was in my wallet.