At the little café near my bus stop, I always choose the table by the window. It is and cold, but I like to watch the street from there. This morning, a man in a blue came in with one wet . He carried a bag and sat down beside me. Then he took a from his bag and ate a small cake. I smiled, but I did not ask why he had brought his own fork.
在公交车站附近的那家小咖啡馆里，我总是选择靠窗的桌子。 它又硬又冷，但我喜欢从那里看着街道。 今天早晨，一个穿着蓝衬衫的男人走了进来，其中一只鞋是湿的。 他拎着一个沉重的包，在我旁边坐了下来。 接着，他从包里拿出一把叉子，吃了一小块蛋糕。 我笑了笑，但并没有问他为什么自己带了叉子。
Outside, two children were playing a with a ball. They ran past the café, laughing, while their mother waited at the . The man watched them for a moment. Then he put on his shoe and left. I stayed with my tea and watched people to work. A café table is a small place, but the street keeps changing in front of it. Some mornings, that is enough to make an ordinary bus stop feel like part of the city.
外面，两个孩子正在玩球游戏。 他们笑着跑过咖啡馆，他们的母亲则在斑马线旁等待。 那个男人看了他们一会儿。 然后他穿上鞋子离开了。 我留下来喝着茶，看着人们匆忙去上班。 咖啡馆的桌子是个小地方，但它前方的街道却在不断变幻。 有些早晨，这就足以让一个普通的公交车站感觉像是这座城市的一部分。
