The old man on the train

Before boarding the train, I expected that the distance from the door to the seat would be less than 20 meters, which would be an extremely difficult journey. The aisle of the carriage was crowded with passengers and luggage. Passengers who find seats are eager to compete for space to put their luggage. The passengers who were blocked were shouting "Excuse me, make way". Soon the luggage rack was full, and the luggage that could not be loaded had to be put in the aisle to get in the way. I took a deep breath and tried my best to lift my suitcase above my head, along the space squeezed out by the person in front, through the sprawling package and a little closer to my seat. For a while, I was stuck, my feet were hanging in the air, and I couldn't find room to land. Perhaps the image of my small body carrying a suitcase is very similar to that of ants carrying rice grains. A middle-aged man's voice came from above my head. "Make way for her, this little girl is not easy." I feel a warm current in my heart, hoping to look up and smile at him.

Ten minutes later, I finally found a seat. Check the ticket, the seat is near the aisle, and there is an old man of about fifty years old. He has messy hair, a few locks of hair on his head, a shabby and dirty light brown coat with white cuffs, a pair of black leather shoes that can afford leather on his feet, and mud on his upper.

My mind quickly flashed the image of migrant workers wearing helmets, covered in dust and bent by the burden of life. I am familiar with their hardships because my parents are just one of them. My mother once told me that life on the construction site is very hard, and there is no place to take a bath in summer, so I can only wait until the dead of night to take a bath in the leafy corner of the park. I often worry that my father's lungs inhale too much dust from floor tiles, and the noise from the construction site damages his eardrum. When he cut the tiles, with the shrill sound of the machine, fine tile powder rose around him like a cloud. I reminded him to wear a mask when cutting tiles. He smiled and shook his head and said, "People will laugh when they see it. Don't do this job if you are so delicate. " Every time I see a humble person, I always feel sorry for myself.

"This is my seat." I try to be friendly.

The man gave me a look, got up slowly and stood on the edge of the aisle.

I carried my suitcase and stepped over a big snakeskin bag. There was no room on the luggage rack, so I put the box down. Fortunately, it can just fit under the seat. The small table was full of instant noodles, snacks and fruits, so I had to put the food on my knee.

Sitting next to me is a young couple, the innermost is a college student, and the opposite is a middle-aged couple. The man was neatly dressed, with his legs crossed, and looked like a village cadre. The woman was wearing tacky clothes and fashionable leather shorts, and there was a hairball on the leggings inside her knees. Her skin is dry and dark yellow, and her eyebrows are painted black and thick, which is unnatural. What annoys me even more is that whenever she has something to whisper, she whispers into a man's ear and then smiles on his shoulder. This explicit lingering really doesn't suit their age, and I suspect that they are husband and wife. I guess they go out to work like old men, maybe they are shop assistants or something.

Whenever someone walks by, the old man crosses the snakeskin bag lying on the ground and stands between me and the middle-aged man. After repeated many times, he simply sat on the bag. The snakeskin bag is white and clean, as if it had been washed, and it can be seen that it contains a quilt. The bag is very big, occupying more than half of the aisle, leaving only one foot space, barely enough for people to pass. I guessed that the quilt belonged to a middle-aged couple, so I glanced at them and found that they were still joking around. The old man arched his upper body and hugged his knees. This posture may not look very comfortable, but it's better than standing.

To make up for kicking him out of his seat, I took out a banana and handed it to him. He took the banana and smiled at me, with the humility peculiar to his class.

He squinted at me. "You are a student, right? Go home for the New Year? " Speak with a strong Henan accent. I think he is from Luohe or Hebi, Zhumadian. In short, he will get off at some small stations in Henan on this line.

I nodded my head. He asked my family and school again, and I reluctantly answered. He speaks slowly, as if every sentence should be thoughtful, with a warm tone and a smile on his face. However, I think he is different from the migrant workers I met. Some of those people are honest, wooden-faced, and stubbornly follow their clumsy and ridiculous manners; Some people love to show off and brag, their language is exaggerated and vulgar, and they are too enthusiastic about people. Either way, you can see their simple and honest nature at a glance. And the one in front of me, there seems to be a kind of coldness in his smile, maybe his eyes are staring straight at you, I don't know, in short, it's different.

It is very uncomfortable to curl up in a pile in this crowded carriage. He stood up and stretched himself from time to time.

As I spoke, I noticed that his left eyebrow was split in half by a scar, and the skin of his face and neck was tanned, which was obviously sunburned. His cheeks are thin and sunken inward, which makes his cheekbones stand out and look like a skeleton. I imagine that he has a college student studying at home, or a sick old mother, so he will leave his hometown. The burden of life oppresses his body and his spirit, and the expression on his face is as dull as talking.

When he stood up again, I stood up and said to him, "I'm tired of sitting." Go and sit down. "

The old man thanked me with a smile and sat in my seat.

It's surprisingly hot in the carriage. College students use books as fans. My feet are sweating and my shoes are wet. The air is mixed with sour sweat, instant noodles, sausages and a little foot odor. Ill-bred parents make their children scream. Shallow young people play vulgar songs on their mobile phones, and turn the volume up to the maximum for fear that others will not appreciate his taste. People keep passing by, and people standing mutter that they want to move the station, tighten their bodies to make room, wait for people to squeeze past, and then return to the original state. People who are sleepy and tired can't bear it. When the stewardess pushed snack car to sell it, this dissatisfaction broke out completely.

"It's too crowded to walk, what else to sell!" The passengers who were awakened by sleeping on the ground complained loudly, and the passengers standing around and squatting condemned the passengers.

The stewardess turned a deaf ear. "Which passenger's luggage is this? Please move. "

No one cares about her, and the theater goers eat melon seeds. The awakened passenger looked at her coldly. I glanced at the couple across the street. They smiled and admired a photo, pretending that it was nothing and the old man was watching them. The disgust in my heart jumped.

The passenger raised his voice again and looked around. The people standing bowed their heads and played with their mobile phones, while the people sitting on the ground continued to sit. They intend to wait until the obstacles are cleared before getting up and letting passengers pass. The middle-aged woman whispered in the man's ear, and the man smiled. The old man's eyes moved from the woman's face to the man, and from the man to the woman. I really want to find this couple and force them to admit it and make a fool of themselves in public.

A minute passed, and the flight attendants were still deadlocked there. "Which passenger's luggage, please move it." She looked around and said it twice to make sure everyone around her heard her. Her face began to look desperate and helpless. She said in a pleading tone, "Please cooperate with my work, thank you!"

Middle-aged couples are still indifferent. I can't take it anymore. I stepped forward and raised the snakeskin bag over my head. It's heavier than my suitcase. There are at least two quilts in it.

Seeing that this is not my luggage, the passenger gave me a grateful look and pushed the car over. Putting down the quilt, I glared at the middle-aged couple angrily. Definitely not a serious relationship!

Half an hour later, the conductor pushed snack car back. The middle-aged couple stayed motionless for a while, and I held the snakeskin bag high above my head again. I hate middle-aged couples to the extreme. It's not my luggage. Why do you have to move it again and again? I made up my mind that the next time a snack passenger passed by, I would dance and watch, but the passenger never came.

I yawned and the soles of my feet began to feel sore. The old man looked blankly at the front with empty eyes, as if forgetting that this was my seat. I have to remind him that he quickly stood up apologetically.

The carriage gradually quieted down, snoring broke out one after another, and even the conversation was lowered a lot. The air is no longer unbearably hot, so the crew may have turned down the heating.

I squinted and was awakened by the passenger's broadcast at three in the morning. The train will arrive in Zhumadian soon. I opened my eyes, and the passengers in the aisle were waiting in line to get off. Confused, I saw a white snakeskin bag and a light brown coat looming in the crowd. I woke up with a start, sat up straight and looked back. The middle-aged couple are still sitting opposite me. Looking at the car door again, the old man and the white snakeskin bag disappeared into the night.