Flowers on the Bus
We were a very motley crowd of people who took the bus every day that summer 3 years ago. During the early morning ride from the suburb1, we sat drowsily2 with our collars up to our ears, a cheerless and taciturn bunch.
One of the passengers was a small grey man who took the bus to the centre for senior citizens every morning. He walked with a stoop3 and a sad look on his face when he, with some difficulty, boarded the bus and sat down alone behind the driver. No one ever paid very much attention to him.
Then one July morning he said good morning to the driver and smiled short-sightedly down through the bus before he sat down. The driver nodded guardedly. The rest of us were silent.
The next day, the old man boarded the bus energetically, smiled and said in a loud voice: And a very good morning to you all! Some of us looked up, amazed4, and murmured Good morning, in reply.
The following weeks we were more alert5. Our friend was now dressed in a nice old suit and a wide out-of-date tie. The thin hair had been carefully combed. He said good morning to us every day and we gradually began to nod and talk to each other.
One morning he had a bunch of wild flowers in his hand. They were already dangling6 a little because of the heat. The driver turned around smilingly and asked: Have you got yourself a girlfriend, Charlie? We never got to know if his name really was Charlie, but he nodded shyly and said yes.
The other passengers whistled and clapped at him. Charlie bowed and waved the flowers before he sat down on his seat.
Every morning after that Charlie always brought a flower. Some of the regular passengers began bringing him flowers for his bouquet7, gently nudged him and said shyly: Here. Everyone smiled. The men started to jest about it, talk to each other, and share the newspaper.
The summer went by, and autumn was closing in, when one morning Charlie wasnt waiting at his usual sTOP. When he wasnt there the next day and the day after that, we started wondering if he was sick or hopefully on holiday somewhere.
When we came nearer to the centre for senior citizens, one of the passengers asked the driver to wait. We all held our breaths when she went to the door.
Yes, the staff said, they knew who we were talking about. The elderly gentleman was fine, but he hadnt been coming to the centre that week. One of his very close friends had died at the weekend. They expected him back on Monday. How silent we were the rest of the way to work.
The next Monday Charlie was waiting at the sTOP, stooping8 a bit more, a little bit more grey, and without a tie. He seemed to have shrinked again. Inside the bus was a silence akin9 to that in a church. Even though no one had talked about it, all those of us, who he had made such an impression on that summer, sat with our eyes filled with tears and a bunch of wild flowers in our hands.
三年前的那个夏季，大家还是一群素不相识的人，天天都乘坐巴士。在从郊区开往市区的早班车里，大家都昏昏欲睡地坐着，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，天天早上，他都乘车去老年活动中心。微微有的驼背，每次艰难地上车后，他都一个人坐到司机后面，并且脸上总携带一副悲伤的表情。没人过多地注意过他。
然而，在7月的一个早晨，他先对司机说了声早上好，并对车厢里的人报之以微笑，然后才坐下。司机随便地址点头。而大家仍维持沉默。
第二天，这位老人精力充沛地上了车，微笑地大声说：诸位，早上好啊！有的人吃惊地抬起头来，低声答道：早上好。
下面的几个星期，大家对他愈加注意了。大家这位朋友目前穿着一件漂亮的旧西服，打着一条宽松的过时领带。稀疏的头发也精心梳理过了。他天天都对大家说早上好，而大家也渐渐开始点头致意并互相交谈。
一天早上，他手里拿着一束野花，因为天气炎热，有的已经凋零。司机微笑着转过头去问：查理，是否有女友了啊？大家都不了解他是不是真叫查理，但他羞怯地址头承认了。
其他乘客都吹着口哨为他鼓掌，查理鞠了个躬，晃了晃手中的鲜花，然后坐下了。
从那将来，天天早上，查理都会带一支鲜花，有的老乘客也开始为他带些花，轻轻地碰他一下，羞怯地说：给你的。每一个人都面带微笑。大家开始开玩笑，互相聊天，推荐报纸。
夏季过去了，秋季快要到了。那天早上，查理没在他一般等车的那一站等车，并且接连几天都没出现，大家猜测他是不是生病了，但更期望他是去某个地方度假了。
当大家的车渐渐行驶到老年活动中心时，其中一位乘客让司机停车等一下，她走到车门时大家都屏住了呼吸。
是的，员工说，他们了解大家说的那个人。那位老先生身体非常健康，但那个星期他没来活动中心。上周末他的一位十分要好的朋友去世了。他们估计下周一他能回来。下面的路上，大家一直沉默不语。
下个周一，查理在车站等车。他看起来腰弯得更厉害，头发更加苍白，也没系领带。他仿佛又恢复了原样。车厢像教堂一般肃静。尽管没人说话，但大家所有人，他过去在那个夏季留下美好回忆的这群人，每个人手里都拿着一束鲜花，眼里噙满了泪水。
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