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“Rain comes one after another during the Qingming Festival”, the words of the ancients really make sense. The rain is getting more and more dense. The sky over the city is like a woman wearing a grey scarf. In an instant, she wraps up her beautiful appearance. I can‘t see its face.
A car came from one end of the road and was driven into the other end by the rain, leaving only traces of sound.I was still standing on the side of the road, standing under the rain shed with only two people to shelter from the rain, waiting for the bus, the wind rose, and the city shook in this background. As the rain grew heavier, my body was shrouded. The leaves on one side covered half a drop of rain on the right side of me at a sporadic height, while others fell from the gap between the leaves and hit my clothes.
Rain slants to sprinkle on me, whether to go into the nearby supermarket for shelter or to continue to wait, I hesitate, the car always comes when people are impatient, just like many people, after all without Nai, it covers the meaning of perseverance.A cyclist is struggling to step on the pedals. His figure is a little old, like a bow of vicissitudes, shooting at a distance that can’t be seen clearly. When passing in front of me, I suddenly got up and looked up at the canopy, looked at the rain again, stopped immediately, pushed my bike to the front of me, and stood in the small platform. His hair drips down, wipes the rain on his face, looks at me and smiles.
I looked up at the top of the shed and said to myself: fortunately you can accommodate two people. But before long, a bus stopped, still not the one I was waiting for. A pregnant woman covered her head with a leather bag and sped towards the platform. She was stunned for a while, then looked behind the platform. I knew that she wanted to find another shelter, so I picked up my bag and pointed to it like the position I had just pointed out. Run to the convenience store around the corner in the rain without stopping.This lonely night, with the wind and rain, I almost lost the patience and courage to wait, first to find a shelter. At the corner, “Hualian Supermarket” scarlet letter, like a shining sword, stabbed into the gray evening of the city. My heart was a little bright, not running. There was a little uneasy confusion in steadiness.
What was I panicking about? Is it the street, the evening, or my loneliness? The canopy just shared with cyclists is warm and safe.When I got to the door, I immediately looked down for a dry place. A big man with straw hat squatted at the door and smoked a damp cigarette. The sparks on the cigarette end played with the darkness. Suddenly I thought of Pound‘s subway: “these faces appeared ghostly in the crowd, petals on the wet black branches. Who is he? A stranger who seems to have known each other, a waiting person who is somewhat disappointed, and a drifter who is lonely. ” The only dry place at the door, he accounted for more than half of it, so I had to hold half of my body against the concrete wall to avoid the wind, and the other half was still in the rain. But, only standing outside the supermarket, can we see the coming bus. Uncle took a look at me, took a breath of smoke and moved aside. He said to me, “stand here!” I thanked him, and he exclaimed, “the eaves of the city are small!”Yes, there is a warm and close place in the countryside without sharing, and people can be accommodated everywhere. However, the eaves of the city are narrow and rare.
People should learn to share and share with others all the time. Only in this way can we reduce the tears of the homeless people who can’t accept and share.After a cup of tea, I said goodbye to my uncle and ran to the bus.
On this day, I shared the eaves of the city with two people.
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