Above the Launderette

Daniel did not ask what had happened. He looked at her bag, then at the lit window of the bakery behind her, where Walter was still sitting at the kitchen table with his head bowed. Then he jerked his thumb towards the seats. “Get on,” he said quietly. “It’s warm in here, and the coffee’s terrible. You’ll feel right at home.”

丹尼尔没有问发生了什么事。他看了看她的包，又看了看她身后亮着灯的面包店窗户，沃尔特还低着头坐在厨房桌旁。然后，他用大拇指指了指座位。“上车吧，”他轻声说，“车里很暖和，咖啡也很难喝。你会觉得像在自己家一样。”

She got on. He closed the doors, and the bus pulled away from Bridge Street, past the dark windows of Shah’s and the empty houses at numbers three and five. Ana did not look back. She sat in the front seat with her bag on her knees and watched the town go past, grey and half asleep, while the sky slowly turned from black to dark blue.

她上了车。他关上车门，公交车驶离了Bridge Street，经过了Shah's漆黑的窗户，以及三号和五号的空房子。安娜没有回头看。她坐在前排座位上，把包放在膝盖上，看着灰蒙蒙且半睡半醒的小镇退去，天空慢慢由黑变暗蓝。

It was the last round of his shift. There were three passengers: two cleaners going to the hospital and a man in a suit who had obviously not been home at all. Nobody paid any attention to the young woman in the front seat who was telling the driver, in a low voice, the worst night of her life.

这是他当班的最后一班车。车上有三名乘客：两名去医院的清洁工，还有一个穿西装的男人，显然根本没回过家。没有人注意前排座位上的年轻女人，她正低声向司机讲述着她人生中最糟糕的一夜。