Prose of people who get up early to work

The alarm clock of the mobile phone rings at the scheduled time.

Time from dreaming to drowsiness, 10 second.

He is still used to turning off his mobile phone completely before going to bed. He has a religious belief that turning off his mobile phone will radiate signals that interfere with his brain, so that he can sleep soundly.

After pressing the power button for 5 seconds, the screen of the mobile phone began to show dazzling light. He threw the phone upside down and stared at the light leaking between the screen and the sheets. He tried to adapt his eyes to the dim light.

His eyes are blurred and he may fall asleep again at any time.

He stretched out his right hand from the bed with residual temperature. He turned on his mobile phone, and the room of several square meters was immediately covered with gauze-like light.

He began to switch the mobile phone desktop constantly, hovering between several commonly used mobile phone software. He lingered for a long time under the most frequently browsed mobile phone software, and the information he saw changed from black to gray. Now that all the words are grayed out, he thinks he is completely awake and satisfied.

Time always seems to deliberately accelerate the pace of walking in the morning. Unconsciously, the action of brushing the mobile phone beside him has been close to 10 minutes.

There is a cat meowing outside the window. He recalled his small bedroom in his hometown. He can always hear cats meowing in the middle of the night, just like a few months old baby crying.

The cat woke up.

Time to get up.

He likes to sleep naked. He is used to propping up the bed with his left hand and keeping his upper body upright. He first put on his coat and men's underwear with dark gray and velvet, which he prepared to put on the table before going to bed; He leaned over to the heater and took away the underwear that had been hanging all night; Finally, there are warm pants with more cashmere. Almost every morning when he gets up early, he wears his close-fitting clothes in this order.

He reluctantly opened the door and went out. A cool breeze blew from nowhere in the corridor.

The temperature in the kitchen probably exceeds 15℃. He unscrewed the mineral water by the pool and took a sip, and a chill instantly passed through his throat.

He walked back to the bedroom, plugged in the bedside lamp and the room lit up.

He walked into the bathroom, pushed the door and locked it, crept, washed his hair, washed his face and brushed his teeth, and tried not to make too much noise. The other two roommates are still sleeping. Most people who come to Beipiao in this city are asleep, and he is one of them.

The washing process takes 6 to 10 minutes to complete, and it is more troublesome to blow dry the hair. Dry the water around your hair with a dry towel, and then you must wrinkle your hair by hand. He needs to mess up his hair several times in a damp place.

No matter at any time, washing will be a refreshing enjoyment. He subconsciously touched his right cheek, and there was obviously some stubble left. He picked up the razor again.

Time is getting tight. Six minutes to 10. He needs to finish the following things in 10 minutes: put on black cotton trousers, put on a burgundy hooded sweater and tie the shoelaces of those overalls. Fortunately, he put the sportswear, bath balls and facial cleanser changed in the company gym in his bag one night in advance. Now all he has to do is stuff them into a black backpack, so that he can save at least 2 minutes in the morning, and also stuff a mobile phone charging head into the backpack. Do you want to cram that collection of novels in, nine times out of ten? He doesn't care about the added weight. He feels that he is a scholar who can't live without books, and even has to carry them home after work.

Except for the color, he has two identical down jackets. One is black and the other is white, and white is more attractive to him. He put on a white coat with black spots.

He is used to wearing gloves when the zipper of his backpack and down jacket is pulled to the top. There is a small hole between his thumb and forefinger, which is the same for both hands. He is the only one in the world who knows the secret.

His door is unlocked. He likes to leave without locking the door occasionally. The windows of the room always open at an angle of 30 degrees.

As soon as the lights in the room went out, the corridor fell into dead darkness. He likes to touch the dark to open doors, two doors. The outermost iron gate is always creaking.

In retrospect, he never met anyone, even a cat, in the corridor from the third floor to the first floor in the morning.

There must be no one before me, he often thinks so.

There is a lot of space in the corridor on the first floor. The battery car is attached to the wall, and the current evenly reaches the place where it should go. Who is its owner?

There is some humid air coming in. There is no snow here in the dead of winter. He walked out of the corridor.

As usual, several bicycles are parked in the open space on the left side of the carport. Did you stop there before sunset or after sunset yesterday? He guessed that riding it was mostly a young figure.

Unlocking is no trouble. Before going out, he only put the gloves of his left hand on his hand, and the gloves of his right hand were stuffed into the jacket pocket of his right hand, so that his right hand could unlock the bicycle with his mobile phone.

When unlocking, the rebound sound of the car lock is not as crisp and powerful as yesterday, and the metal ring is very light, which sounds like a sobbing child hiding in the quilt.

Lift the seat to the highest place, hold the car body firmly, throw it at a right angle, aim the front of the car at the front, put on the gloves of the right hand, hold the handlebar tightly with both hands, step on the pedal with your left foot, and suddenly push the right foot to the ground.

He set off.

In order to ensure safety, you need to go through two iron gates to get in and out of this old residential building. Everyone who lives here has an iron gate key. The person who is really responsible for the opening time of the iron gate is an old man who looks very young in the reception room at the door. The normal opening time in the morning is 5: 30, and few people get up early in winter. Sometimes it's six o'clock and the iron door lock is still closed. Anyone who occasionally gets up early to catch the bus and walk the dog should use his own key to open the iron gate. Winter is the season to indulge people's laziness, and the old doorman who locks the lock occasionally gives himself a holiday.

During the day, the stone road between two iron gates is noisy, which is the only way for people and cars to come and go; In the morning when there is no wind, the stone road is quiet, and the friction sound from the collision between bicycle tires and stone slabs is clearly audible.

Today, he is very lucky. Both iron doors were ajar. He can get the key without stopping the car and taking off his backpack and gloves. If one of the keys can't open the door, he has to change the other one. The keys to the two iron gates are the same.

Out of the stone road, he finally rode upstairs on the asphalt road in the north. Now he doesn't have to worry about vehicles, deliberately avoiding the office workers who come out in droves during the day. He slammed on the pedal several times, and the airflow around him accelerated sharply, and the cold feeling swept the skin exposed outside the clothes. The busy clerk who got up early in the roadside breakfast shop was obviously attracted by the figure of desperately cycling on the road and looked up. He just noticed the only restaurant that opened in the morning, and his eyes briefly overlapped with his. A white mist of steamed bread rises from the breakfast shop.

Before XX, X, he used to ride to the end of the road, drive to the left 100 meters, get off, go up the stairs, walk over the overpass, go down the stairs, and then walk to the bus stop. After XX, X, he still rode to the end of the road, changed direction to the right, 50 meters, turned off the overpass at bridge opening, turned left, went straight 150 meters, got off and walked to the bus stop.

I don't know why he changed his route that day. Maybe he is very proud of missing a few steps, or he is just tired of taking the same route for months on end, even if the distance is short.

Tight pants obviously modify the leg muscle lines of morning runners, and taxis and vans roared across the middle of the road. Unable to hear the heavy breathing of the morning runner, he stopped the car and the bus stop was close at hand.

The station is empty, and four buses can take him to the transfer station in two stops. The perfect situation: when he sees any bus in the distance, he can walk slowly without looking back. The trajectory of the car and his walking route will humorously coincide at some point. When the bus stops, he will also stop.

The process of waiting for the bus today was not very smooth. In fact, he had to wait for a while. He thought the bus was deliberately aimed at him, which made him tremble with cold on the platform.

If someone passes by the bus stop at this time, you will see a person's lips trembling, his right hand beating warily, and his left and right feet alternately raised.

He is singing.

He has been holding a bus card since he started waiting for the bus. A middle-aged woman in long leather boots walked slowly to the platform. She was not a passenger of the bus that was about to enter the station, and her singing came to an abrupt end. He pinched the bus card with his right thumb and forefinger, which was his habit before getting on the bus.

There are very few people on the bus, specifically the driver, the flight attendant and him. The flight attendant read out the boarding rules with a blunt and annoying northern accent. He leaned against the railing at the back door of the bus. From his perspective, he could see one third of the driver's body, and he couldn't tell whether it was thin or swollen.

The two stops are very short. The flight attendant reminded the passengers getting off the bus to pay attention to safety. He found this strange reminder very warm.

The transfer station is 50 meters ahead, and there are generally several possibilities for waiting for the bus:

When he got off the bus, he could only see the taillights of the bus, and there were no pedestrians waiting on the platform.

As soon as he got off the bus, the change of the bus gradually became bigger within his observation range. He decided to gamble and ran like hell, and the bus left him alone on the platform.

As soon as he got off the bus, the change of the bus gradually became bigger within his observation range. He decided to gamble and ran like hell. The bus started and there was no one on the platform.

He got off the bus and there were seven or eight people on the platform. He knew that the group had been waiting for a long time, but he didn't need to wait for long. He is like a fisherman who makes money.

When he got off the bus, two or three figures stood sporadically on the platform. They always keep a distance of several meters, which usually means waiting for about ten minutes.

He prayed that he wouldn't wait too long today.

The man waiting for the bus began to smoke. He lowered the wrinkled brim of his hat, and the exhaled smoke did not disperse evenly. In his opinion, smoking must be something that bothers him. He hates the smell of smoke.

There are more people waiting for the bus. The girl dragging the suitcase leaned out from time to time and looked in the direction of the coming car; Two middle-aged women are wrapped in headscarves, and the luggage around them looks very light; The three middle-aged men standing together have the same appearance characteristics: messy hair, rough skin on face and hands, thin outermost clothes and traces of dust and white paint on trousers.

There are still dozens of meters away from the bus stop, and the crowd began to gather in the designated bus area on the roadside. Several students carrying schoolbags came running breathlessly, smiling at the corners of their mouths. No matter how many people there are, he always likes to get on the bus last.

In order to ensure safety, the double-decker bus is doomed to miss the high-speed driving, but this just meets his expectation, and he can observe the context of buildings along the way from a height.

There is a man lying opposite the left seat in the front row on the second floor. Will he sit too far away from where he should get off? Where did he come from? Which pub does he drink in? The flight attendant passed the sleeping man twice, but failed to fulfill his obligation to wake him up.

The air conditioner on the bus must be a child who got up in bed. He shoved headphones into his ears, half of which was the manic sound when the air conditioner started heating, and the other half was singing songs with stories.

He is a little afraid of heights. The bus will pass a high overpass. He dare not look down. As far as possible, he focused his eyes on the small point where all the traffic flows gathered more than ten kilometers away. He often fantasizes that the bridge will collapse at a certain moment, and he will land freely with the bus in some strange posture, and the front seat handle is tightly grasped by him.

The interval between the two stations is very long. City park, subway hub station, rockery to be repaired, giant propaganda slogan with red letters on black background, river with low water level and illegal buildings surrounded by blue iron plates passed by him in turn.

He pressed the pause button to stop the music, and at the same time searched the mobile phone software for bicycles near the station. He stood up and walked to the steps leading from the second floor to the first floor. The sleeping man changed his posture. The entrances and exits on the first and second floors are the only places where he can stand up straight, and the double-decker bus will inevitably make him feel wronged.

Inside and outside the carriage are two spaces with completely different somatosensory temperatures, and the dry and cold north wind blows against my face. There are still 20 minutes before the scheduled working hours. Time urged him to hurry up and get to the bicycle parking area on the map. If all goes well, 10 minutes will be enough for him to reach Little Square outside the company gate.

Three or four bicycles instead of one. Today, he is blessed by heaven. He can choose the one that looks most comfortable, even if it is uncomfortable, there is room for replacement. On a cool morning, I felt really bad about the brake failure and pedaling like stepping in mud.

The green signal light turns red. He slowed down and waited for the car to stop fidgeting after dawn. He had time to escape the curse of zebra crossing, and his recklessness was suppressed by reason. He chose to be a silent bystander.

He hates bicycles and motorcycles that go upstream, and he deliberately stays away from them. The people in the car were all wrapped in winter clothes, leaving only a pair of dull eyes. For a moment, the sense of disgust was washed away by the passing airflow.

He has passed this bicycle lane countless times. Judging from the color of asphalt, it is a trimmed road. Dark asphalt can withstand wheel rolling, and slightly cracked lines appear on the surface; Light asphalt is not so lucky. Many places seem to be artificially excavated and deliberately exposed to the ground. The gray-blue sand is easily reminiscent of the wounds left after being trampled, which is cruel and heartless. He tried to keep the wheels from touching those wounds, but he couldn't stop them from deepening.

The sky in the east began to turn yellow. He bypassed a KTV, and the empty road was occupied by several cranes. Residents nearby will park their cars on the side of the road to wash them during the day. The water spilled from washing the car in the morning will naturally freeze on the road. In addition to avoiding the ice, he has to be wary of the four-wheeled vehicles coming from behind. In most cases, when he hears the roar of the engine behind him, he will consciously give up the cycling route. Someone always wants to run over all the obstacles in front of the car. The sharp horn is their fierce charge.

I don't know when the creatures in the roadside cage will be replaced by a gray-black hound and a dirty white puppy. He wasn't sure who would leave the iron cage on the side of the road. He doubted that the big dog would come to a good end. The puppy curled up in the corner. It doesn't know that he may just be struggling with a few tomorrows.

The dead branches at the end of the road are lined with a charming sense of sculpture by the dark yellow sky, and the completely different scenery on the left and right sides is just bounded by this tree: the house on the right is low, and the deep path is narrow and dark; The Internet company building under construction is not far away.

He has passed the 2.08-meter-high vehicle limit pole, leaving a sign with the words "Software Park" behind him. He is marching on the last asphalt road symbolizing his destination.

Several construction workers rode past him on the same bicycles, and the plastic bags hung on the handlebars were rickety. Getting up early to catch up with work, it is difficult for them to have breakfast safely in their residence, which is full of egg cakes or patties. Their eyes are always attracted by the huge connected buildings lit up on the left. In a crowded office cubicle, I suddenly saw my busy figure. This illusion is out of reach. He parted ways with them at the crossroads, he continued to move forward, and they drove in the dusty direction.

He began to slow down, drove from the bicycle lane to the sidewalk, and parked his bicycle in the parking area designated near the company gate. He used to land with his left foot first, lean to the left, bypass the seat with his right leg and land with his right foot. When the car lock is fastened, it will make a special prompt sound. Five bicycles, including the one he just stopped, he looked around.

Taking off his gloves, he felt the coolness brought by the cold wind sliding through his fingertips. The sweltering heat and humidity lingered between his skin and clothes, and he unzipped his coat, expecting the sweat to dissipate completely before entering the building.

"Please show me your work permit!"

The security guard in dark gray uniform stopped him, and he took out his work permit, obviously dismissing it. He met the security guard the day before yesterday, thinking that the security guard could remember his face.

He really doesn't need to remember his face, an ordinary face.

He quickened his pace and walked into the company building.