那一年,我大四,这个城市的311路公车还开往幸福路。和宿舍里的小姐妹一次次相伴搭它去人才交流会应聘,后来又每日同乘它去两家相邻的公司上班。路线很长,要穿过城角的偏僻和闹市的汹涌;有些路段很美,车窗外铺着浓密的蔷薇花。车上人多的时候,我们手拉手紧紧站在一起,掌心渗出温热的汗。偶尔也一个人,发呆、观察身边的人、打电话,也思索新的生活向我打开的困惑。曾不止一次地兀自对着窗外微笑,也曾把头抵在车窗上偷偷哭泣。 That year, I was a senior, the city’s 311 bus bound for happiness Road. And dorm sister again and again to accompany it to talent exchange meeting candidates, and later with the daily ride with it to two neighboring companies to work. The route is long, through the city corner of the remote and downtown raging; some beautiful sections, the window covered with thick roses. When many people in the car, we hand in hand tightly together, palms exudes warm sweat. Occasionally a person, a daze, observe the people around, call, but also pondering the new life opened to me the confusion. More than once, she had smiled at the window and had her head cry silently at the window.