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早上七点,乔工起床,简单吃两口饭,抹抹嘴,拎着马扎就出了门。拐出桥南巷,迎面碰见遛狗的邻居老张,两人点点头,擦肩而过。再走不远,去体育场舞剑的老程也回来了,身着绸衫绸裤,肩背轻灵佩剑,颇有仙风道骨的味道。乔工尴尬地笑笑,老程却停住了脚步,说:“老乔,赶紧把事了了,一起去锻炼啊。”乔工没说话,心底一片茫然。与往常一样,乔工挤上13路。公交车像个醉汉,摇摇晃晃地带着乔工穿梭在城市的大街上。乘客上了又下、下了又上,乔工不看沿街风景,
Seven o’clock in the morning, Joe workers get up, simply eat two meals, wiping his mouth, carrying a Mazar out the door. Abandoned Bridge South Lane, met the dog’s neighbor Zhang, the two nodded and passed. Not far away to go to the stadium the old sword of dance is back, dressed in silk shirt, Brisk saber shoulders, rather scent flavor. Joe workers embarrassed to smile, but stopped the old journey, said: “Joe, quickly put things to workout ah.” Joe did not speak, my heart a loss. As usual, Joe workers squeezed 13. Bus like a drunkard, staggered with a joiner shuttle in the city’s streets. Passengers up and down, under the next, Joe workers do not see the scenery along the street,