三年前的那个夏天,我们还是一群素不相识的人,每天都乘坐巴士。在从郊区开往市区的早班车里,我们都昏昏欲睡地坐着,衣领直竖到耳朵。整个车厢里鸦雀无声。其中一位乘客是一位头发灰白的小个子老头, 每天早上,他都乘车去老年活动中心。微微有些驼背,每次艰难地上车后,他都独自坐到司机后面, 并且脸上总带着一副悲伤的表情。没人过多地注意过他。 The summer of three years ago, we were still strangers and we took buses every day. In the morning shuttle from the suburbs to the city, we were sitting drowsily and the collar straight to the ear. The whole carriage was silent. One of the passengers was a small gray-haired man. Every morning, he took a bus to the elderly activity center. Slightly humpbacked, after each difficult ride on the car, he sat alone behind the driver, and his face always had a sad expression. No one paid too much attention to him.