We were a very motley crowd of people who took the bus every day that summer 33 years ago. During the early morning ride from the suburb, we sat drowsily with our collars up to our ears, a cheerless and taciturn bunch.
One of the passengers was a small grey man who took the bus to the centre for senior citizens every morning. He walked with a stoop and a sad look on his face when he, with some difficulty, boarded the bus and sat down alone behind the driver. No one ever paid very much attention to him.
Then one July morning he said good morning to the driver and smiled short-sightedly down through the bus before he sat down. The driver nodded guardedly. The rest of us were silent.
The next day, the old man boarded the bus energetically, smiled and said in a loud voice: "And a very good morning to you all!" Some of us looked up, amazed, and murmured "Good morning," in reply.
The following weeks we were more alert. Our friend was now dressed in a nice old suit and a wide out-of-date tie. The thin hair had been carefully combed. He said good morning to us every day and we gradually began to nod and talk to each other.
One morning he had a bunch of wild flowers in his hand. They were already dangling a little because of the heat. The driver turned around smilingly and asked: "Have you got yourself a girlfriend, Charlie?" We never got to know if his name really was "Charlie", but he nodded shyly and said yes.
The other passengers whistled and clapped at him. Charlie bowed and waved the flowers before he sat down on his seat.
Every morning after that Charlie always brought a flower. Some of the regular passengers began bringing him flowers for his bouquet, gently nudged him and said shyly: "Here." Everyone smiled. The men started to jest about it, talk to each other, and share the newspaper.
The summer went by, and autumn was closing in, when one morning Charlie wasn’t waiting at his usual stop. When he wasn’t there the next day and the day after that, we started wondering if he was sick or -- hopefully -- on holiday somewhere.
When we came nearer to the centre for senior citizens, one of the passengers asked the driver to wait. We all held our breaths when she went to the door.
Yes, the staff said, they knew who we were talking about. The elderly gentleman was fine, but he hadn’t been coming to the centre that week. One of his very close friends had died at the weekend. They expected him back on Monday. How silent we were the rest of the way to work.
The next Monday Charlie was waiting at the stop, stooping a bit more, a little bit more grey, and without a tie. He seemed to have shrinked again. Inside the bus was a silence akin to that in a church. Even though no one had talked about it, all those of us, who he had made such an impression on that summer, sat with our eyes filled with tears and a bunch of wild flowers in our hands
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33年的前的那個夏季，每天我們混跡在各色人中等待公車的到來。一大清早我們就從郊區開始坐車，我們把衣領高豎到耳朵上，懶洋洋的坐在那，一群沉悶的，沒有言語的人。
其中的一個乘客是個無名小卒，他每天乘車前往老年人中心。他行走時駝著背，表情悲傷。當他艱難地上了公車，獨自做到駕駛員身后的座位上時，很少有人過多的注意到他。
然而七月的一個早晨，他向駕駛員問好并且在他坐下來之前微笑著環視了一下公車里的乘客。司機禮貌的點點頭，我們依然沉默的坐著，沒有反應。
第二天，那個老人精力充沛的上了公車，微笑著大聲的說：“各位早上好啊!”一些人慢慢的抬起頭覺得很奇怪，有些人嘀咕著小聲回應著：“早上好!”
接下來的幾周我們更震驚了。我們的朋友現在穿著體面的一個舊外套和一個過時的寬領帶。稀疏的頭發也是精心梳理的。他每天向我們問好，我們也逐漸的互相點頭致意，相互交談起來了。
一天早晨他手里拿著一束野花。因為炎熱，他們都抓著吊環站著。司機轉過頭來笑著問道：“查理，你有女朋友了嗎?”我們從來也不知道他的真名是不是叫查理，但是他害羞的點點頭說：“是的”
其他的乘客興奮的吹著口哨，拍打著他。查理鞠躬以示感謝，他揮舞著鮮花坐到了他的位子上。
從那天早晨以后，查理總是帶著一束花。常乘這趟車的一些人也開始帶些花給老人，讓他的花束更艷麗，他們紳士的推著老人，羞赧的說：“給你”。每個人都面帶笑容。人們開始拿這事開玩笑，互相嘮著并分享自己的報紙。
夏去秋來，當有一天清晨查理沒有在他通常的站點等候。當第二天和以后的日子里查理都沒有出現的時候，我們禁不住去想：他是不是病了或者我們更希望他在某個地方度假呢。
當我們來到老年人中心附近的時候，一個乘客讓司機停下來等一下。當她走向門口的時候我們都摒住了呼吸。
老年中心的職員告訴我們說他知道我們說的人是誰。那個老紳士是個好人，但那周他一直沒有來過。他的一個很親密的朋友在周末的時候去世了。他們期待著他周一會來。接下來的路上我們是如此的沉靜。
下周一的時候，查理等候在站點上，背看上去更加的駝了，臉色灰暗，也沒有戴領帶。他看上去一下子又縮小回去了。公車上一下子跟教堂似的靜悄悄的。我們盡管沒有人談論他，那個夏天他給我們的記憶卻揮之不去。我們手拿鮮花，眼含淚水坐在公車上。
