我习惯在办公室里写东西。夜很静,蟋蟀在外面的草丛中叫着,键盘在办公室里响着,这静谧的交响乐啊,使我成为幸福的自由的自我。门嗵地一声开了,吓我一哆嗦,手指下的键盘便挤出了几个牛头马嘴的文字。是我的同事闯进来,他客套地和我打招呼,我却敷衍着说话,心里不愉快。怎么就这么贸然地闯进来?冷静了一下我又想,怎么就不能这样闻进来?这是办公室,平时同事们都这样,况且又是夜晚。 I used to write in the office. The night was quiet, crickets cried in the grass outside, the keyboard ringing in the office, the quiet symphony that made me a happy, free self. The door opened, scared me shivering, under the finger of the keyboard will be squeezed out a few foolish words. It was my colleague who came in, he greeted me politely, but I was perfunctory, my heart was not happy. How to rush into such a rash? Calm down I think again, how can not smell so? This is the office, usually colleagues are like this, Moreover, it is night.