⑴ 急需一篇大概3000-5000字的短篇小說
http://tieba..com/f?ct=335675392&tn=PostBrowser&sc=5642716053&z=546670853&pn=0&rn=30&lm=0&word=%B7%C9%B6%F9%C0%D6%CD%C5#5642716053
⑵ 求3000到5000字的短篇言情小說
我是應屆畢業生
嬉皮笑臉
北山和他的熊
『宗教裁判所』序章
⑶ 世界著名短篇小說
THE GIFT OF THE
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is graally subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.
In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."
The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze ring a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introced to you as Della. Which is all very good.
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out lly at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."
Down rippled the brown cascade.
"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him.
"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"
Jim looked about the room curiously.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.
Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"
And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The ll precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.
"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."
The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of plication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
⑷ 請問有沒有世界著名短篇小說，請註明大概字數，謝謝大家了。如:莫泊桑項鏈5000。
莫泊桑：
西蒙的爸爸 ：4張紙
菲菲小姐：六張紙
我的叔叔於勒：5張紙
戴麗葉春樓：11張紙
馬克吐溫：
百萬英鎊：11張紙
競選州長：3張紙
狗的自述：5張紙
還有中國的：
汪曾祺：
黃油烙餅：5張紙
受戒；10張紙
不夠我再找，因為都是我在家翻書找的所以只能告訴你頁數，不好意思哈
⑸ 請問有什麼著名的5000，6000字左右的短篇世界著名小說，如莫泊桑<項鏈>，謝謝！
《一碗清湯蕎麥面》 [日本] 栗良平《法律門前》 [德國] 卡夫卡《免費》 ［美］ 雪莉·凱撒《一天的等待》 [美國] 厄內斯特·海明威《沒有鎖上的門》 [美國] 羅伯特·斯特恩德力《小公務員之死》 [俄國] 契訶夫《窮苦人》 [俄] 列·托爾斯泰《「諾曼底」號遇難記》 [法國] 雨果《雨傘》 [日本] 川端康成《陳小手》 汪曾祺《陳奐生上城》 高曉聲《沒有完的故事》 [美國] 歐·亨利《熱愛生命》 [美國] 傑克.倫敦《小丑》 [俄國] 屠格涅夫 《半張紙》 [瑞典] 斯特林堡《飢餓藝術家》 [奧地利] 卡夫卡《羅生門》 [日本] 介川龍之介《桔子》 [日本] 介川龍之介《魚服記》 [日本] 太宰治《柏林之圍》 [法國] 都德《夜》 [義大利]；路·皮蘭德婁《阿拉比》 [愛爾蘭] 詹姆斯·喬伊斯《羊脂球》 [法國] 莫泊桑
⑹ 有沒有5000字左右的著名小說
莫泊桑的短篇小說，大概差不多有5000字~
⑺ 求古代短篇小說，是小小說，一篇5000字左右的那種，不要長篇~~~~~或者推薦一些這樣的作家也行！！！
唐傳奇，明清還有好多話本小說都可以的。比如三言二拍之類的，你稍微一搜就一大堆的。
⑻ 有名的作者（如：冰心、魯迅）寫的短篇小說，大約5000字以下。
林斤瀾《春風》
北京人說：「春脖子短。」南方來的人覺著這個「脖子」有名無實，冬天剛過去，夏天就來到眼前了。 最激烈的意見是：「哪裡會有什麼春天，只見起風、起風，成天刮土、刮土，眼睛也睜不開，桌子一天擦一百遍……」 其實，意見里說的景象，不冬不夏，還得承認是春天。不過不像南方的春天，那也的確。褒貶起來著重於春風，也有道理。 起初，我也懷念江南的春天，「暮春三月，江南草長，雜花生樹，群鶯亂飛。」這樣的名句是些老窖名酒，是色香味俱全的。這四句里沒有提到風，風原是看不見的，又無所不在的。江南的春風撫摸大地，像柳絲的飄拂；體貼萬物，像細雨的滋潤。這才草長，花開，鶯飛…… 北京的春風真就是刮土嗎?後來我有了別樣的體會，那是下鄉的好處。 我在京西的大山裡、京東的山邊上，曾數度「春脖子」。背陰的岩下，積雪不管立春、春分，只管冷森森的，沒有開化的意。是潭、是溪、是井台還是泉邊，凡帶水的地方，都堅持著冰塊硯、冰溜、冰碴……一夜之間，春風來了。忽然，從塞外的蒼蒼草原、莽莽沙漠，滾滾而來。從關外撲過山頭，漫過山粱，插山溝，灌山口，嗚嗚吹號，哄哄呼嘯，飛沙走石，撲在窗戶上，撒拉撤拉，撲在人臉上，如無數的針扎。 轟的一聲，是哪裡的河冰開裂吧。嘎的一聲，是碗口大的病枝刮折了。有天夜間，我住的石頭房子的木頭架子，格拉拉、格拉拉響起來，晃起來。彷彿冬眠驚醒，伸懶腰，動彈胳臂腿，渾身關節挨個兒格拉拉、格拉拉地松動。 麥苗在霜冰里返青了，山桃在積雪裡鼓苞了。清早，著大轂鞋，穿老羊皮背心，使荊條背簍，背帶冰碴的羊糞，繞山嘴，上山樑，爬高高的梯田，春風呼哧呼哧地幫助呼哧呼哧的人們，把糞肥拋撒勻凈。好不痛快人也。 北國的山民，喜歡力大無窮的好漢。到喜歡得不行時，連捎帶來的粗暴也只覺著解氣。要不，請想想，柳絲飄拂般的撫摸，細雨滋潤般的體貼，又怎麼過草原、走沙漠、撲山樑?又怎麼踢打得開千里冰封和遍地賴著不走的霜雪? 如果我回到江南，老是乍暖還寒，最難將息，老是牛角淡淡的陽光，牛尾蒙蒙的陰雨，整天好比穿著濕布衫，牆角落裡發霉，長蘑菇，有死耗子味兒。 能不懷念北國的春風!
⑼ 求一篇5000字左右的小說，不要言情，要原創，急急急急急！！！
世界以痛吻你
泰戈爾：世界以痛吻我，要我回報以歌。
小王子，允我喚你小王子。
因為你猶在天真爛漫的年紀，喜歡威風凜凜的披風和玩具長劍，當然，你有時候會扮作其他的，比如海盜、武林萌主甚至是五阿哥。
但我最喜歡你扮小王子的游戲。你用我的長圍巾把我綁在窗檯上，然後你騎著木馬，痛打我的兔斯基玩偶，焦急的喊著：「我的公主，不要怕！」
是的，我不怕。我的內心充滿了勇氣，因為你把整個世界照亮了。
我怕保護不了你/SHIJIEYITONGWENNI
小王子怕黑，每天晚上，他都會溜進我的房間，哭喪著說:「我做噩夢了。」他爬到我的床上，瑟瑟發抖地給我描述他的夢境––他住在玻璃屋，如玫瑰般紅艷的鮮血，開始是一點一滴打在窗戶上，然後是涓涓細流，最後染紅了整片屋頂。
我的床很小，小王子上來後，兩個人就很擠。小王子睡相不好，總會搶被子或者是蹬被子。我身體不好，容易患感冒。第二天聽見我咳嗽或是看見我擦鼻涕，小王子就滿臉愧色。我偏愛喝中葯，小王子卻很討厭，見我的葯汁黑乎乎的，他的淚水就會「吧嗒吧嗒」掉下來，時常自己躲在牆角畫圈圈，自責不已。
我知道小王子對我好，他每天放學早，就會拿著寶劍在我學校門口等我下晚自習。爸媽關他不住，他總會爬水管什麼的偷溜出去。
每次放學，我只要遠遠的看見閃閃發光的彩色寶劍就知道小王子在等著我。那些暗戀我的少年永遠沒有機會送我回家。曾有人買了一盒巧克力哄愛吃甜食的小王子，以後不要來接我放學。小王子流著口水拒絕了，還揮舞著魯莽的劍法，說：「要想搶走我的公主，先把我打贏。」
小王子不知道，他這裝扮在別人眼裡實際上是很可笑的。聽到笑聲，他好看的臉也暗淡了。我趁機勸他以後不如換其他衣服。我只是心疼他被別人笑，他卻以為我也贊同。第二日來了，他穿的是蝙蝠俠的衣服，身材綳得緊緊的，唯一沒忘的還是他的寶劍，橫在胸前雄赳赳氣昂昂地開路。
我偷偷把小王子的古怪衣服和寶劍藏起來。
那天晚上，小王子一直處於很驚恐的尖叫中，任誰去抱都被他掙開。
我不忍心，把寶劍還給他。他緊緊抱住，後怕的說：「我怕沒有寶劍，我就保護不了你了。」
仰起的臉，單純的讓人掉眼淚。
我走了，沒有人對他好∕SHIJIEYITONGWENNI
小王子不懂分別，我們至今最長的分別不過是我去異地參加藝考。小王子說我是他見過最漂亮的公主，白雪公主跟我比是煤炭，美人魚跟我比是醜八怪，灰姑娘跟我比永遠是灰姑娘。
他指著電視上的明星評頭論足，說她們都比不上我。當然他會對兒童台的水果姐姐口下留情，紅著臉說：「那個，她們還可以啦。」
其實小王子才是我見過最漂亮的人。黑曜石般的眼睛，瑪瑙般的嘴唇以及田玉般的皮膚。
現在，我拿到上戲的通知書，不得不對我漂亮的小王子告別。
聽說我的列車開走後，小王子還跟著列車跑了好遠。風吹得他的披風獵獵作響，而我不敢回頭看。
連著好幾天，小王子給我打通宵的電話。說他的噩夢，說他會跋山涉水來救我，說他想我，說我走了，沒有人對他好。
最後一句話聽得我心如刀割。我知道爸爸媽媽不疼小王子。他們嫌棄小王子自己不會穿衣服，吃飯把米粒灑得到處都是，半夜會突然尖叫。媽媽脾氣暴躁，會猛地扇小王子耳光。
一個月的電話費上千，如此昂貴，爸爸查出來是小王子打的，把他關在屋子裡，拔掉了電話線。如果不是鄰居家的妹妹聽到了小王子整夜哭泣的聲音打給我，我永遠不會知道。那段無法聯系我的日子，小王子和小鳥說：「小鳥，幫我給公主帶句話，我想她了。」小王子和白雲說：「白雲，你行行好，當我的跟斗雲，帶我去找公主。」小王子和微風說：「風兒，你幫我吹吹公主，像我一樣摸摸她的臉。」
他瘦成了瓜子臉，在沒有我的保護下，無比畏懼這個世界，生怕行差踏錯，再被關禁閉。
我教小王子上網，可他不會打字，不會拼音，QQ回得很慢，有時候氣急敗壞地敲一堆亂碼過來。但是每天早上，總有一封簡短卻發於凌晨三四點的信，因為他那時候才寫完，錯別字連篇，我總是看著看著就伏案大
大學一年只能回家兩次，我就盡量爭取面試機會，讓小王子有更多的機會看見我。大二的時候，我拍了個飲料廣告，小王子整天守在電視前找我。若電視不放廣告，他就規規矩矩地坐在樓下的小賣部里，吆喝著：「好喝的飲料哦！買一瓶嘛！」
宇宙都滿滿的∕SHIJIEYITONGWENNI
我談了戀愛，不知道怎麼對小王子說。他會生氣吧，他總是揮舞著寶劍，阻止靠近我的男生；他會哭泣吧，他總是抱著我哀求別拋下他一個人；他會委屈吧，是不是他不夠強，所以我要靠別人來保護。
南浩提了許多次，要陪我回家見父母。其實，父母不認同，我可以與他私奔，小王子不認同，我卻會進退兩難。
回程的火車上，我艱難地開口：「小王子是我最重要的人。如果他不同意······」
「你會離開我吧？」南浩笑笑，彷彿答案他已經猜中了。 回到家，爸媽問了南浩的家庭情況，知道他家是開外貿公司的，家裡有四台車，他爸媽和他自己各一台，還有一台閑著玩。於是就眉開眼笑。
小王子卻是不客氣地問他有多喜歡我。南浩說：「很喜歡。」小王子讓他比比看。南浩指著心，說這里都塞得滿滿的。小王子打開了燈，說他的喜歡把房間都裝的滿滿的。南浩指著地球儀，說地球都滿滿的。小王子指著太陽，說宇宙都滿滿的。南浩眉頭不展，從上午想到下午，晚上逛街時見著小王子羨慕地看著坐在父親肩上的小孩，於是南浩抱著小王子說：「我不僅裝著你姐姐，還裝著你。」
臨走時，小王子眼眶紅紅地把他的寶劍和披風都送給了南浩。
我很吃驚地問為什麼。
南浩扭著僵硬的脖子，小王子拍著手說：「南浩哥哥讓我騎脖子。他是第一個。」
對他忠誠到永遠/SHIJIEYITONGWENNI
我畢業時，已經受夠了娛樂圈的種種規則。我遇見過小王子喜歡的水果姐姐，雖然是兒童台的主持，也和雅痞們抽煙喝酒，煙視媚行。我想請她去小王子的生日會上製造驚喜，她也答應了，但沒做好心理准備，見到小王子的瞬間爆笑出眼淚：「你怎麼這么搞笑，這化的花花綠綠的妝是怎麼回事？這是什麼?披風?寶劍?天啊，你真是個極品！」
小王子總是問我：「為什麼那麼多人笑話我?」
我無法回答。
我想擁抱他，可事實是，一米八九的他高大得讓我踮腳也難以擁抱。他今年已經二十三歲，卻永遠停留在五歲的智商。
我對南浩哭著說過，十七歲的時候，我做著明星夢，根據網上的一個藝人經紀工作室地址去拍藝術照片。到了那幢小樓，男人關上了鐵門，讓我脫衣服，說電影公司都會看看女藝人的身體條件好不好。我越脫越少，越來越覺得心慌。我借口去洗手間打電話給小王子。
那是，他還不是小王子，他是引無數少女瘋狂的籃球高手。他接到我的電話，匆匆趕來，執意帶我走並砸爛了工作室的所有東西。男人氣得拿起一個花瓶。
血流如注，就像小王子的夢境。
他醒來，忘記自己十六歲，忘記自己是高中生。他只記得年少時的單純小快樂。
南浩向我求婚，正好我倦了勢力的娛樂圈，倦了冷漠的家庭。
我們的婚禮，小王子半夜都會拿著設計圖來找我，他設計了巧克力噴泉、棉花樹和姜餅宮殿。
南浩主動讓他當伴郎。
婚禮時，主持人問南浩：「你是否願意無論是順境或逆境，富裕或貧窮，健康或疾病，快樂或憂愁，你都將毫無保留地愛她，對她忠誠直到永遠?」
搶在南浩發聲前回答的是小王子，帶著嬌憨純真的笑容，迫不及待地說：「我願意。」
全文完。 可以嗎
⑽ 求一些中短篇勵志小說2000至5000字左右的！有追加懸賞！
曾經路過掌聲
文/岳治全
那天出城辦事，攔下一輛八成新的計程車。師傅四十多歲，微胖，休閑衣裝，一臉笑容，他很愛笑，話卻不怎麼多，什麼都不多問也不好奇，倒是我問一句他答一句，很平和的口氣。
快出城區時，看到前方路邊有個年輕男人在招手，很焦急的表情。旁邊，一輛閃著應急燈的車停在那裡。前面的車並沒有停，擦著招手的年輕人飛馳而過。
師傅開到近前，轉頭試探詢問，你要是不急我下去看看？大概車壞了。我笑著說好，這年頭，熱心人已不多見。
他穩穩將車子泊在那輛亮著應急燈的車後，打開車門。我好奇，也跟著下車走過去，才看清停在那裡的是輛原裝進口的寶馬。
怎麼了，師傅問。西裝革履的年輕男人眉頭蹙著，車忽然熄火了，不知道出了什麼故障，附近也找不到修理廠，想雇個車拖回城去，這還急著辦事呢！
師傅笑笑，要不，我來看看？
年輕男人一愣。師傅解釋，我以前修過車。
年輕男人依然猶豫，顯然信不過眼前這個計程車司機，可是又沒有更好的辦法，只好遲疑著將師傅領到寶馬車前。師傅坐進車內試了試，然後下車將前蓋打開，兩三分鍾，輕輕將前蓋蓋上，回頭對年輕男人說，一點小問題，現在應該可以了。
年輕男人將信將疑，坐上車去啟動車子，果然一切恢復正常。他趕快下了車道謝，拿出一盒煙來。今天表妹出嫁，剛借了朋友的車過去幫幫場子，誰想……
師傅從盒子里抽出一支煙來，點上，擺擺手，趕快走吧，喜事趕早不趕晚。然後對我說，不好意思哦，耽擱你的時間了……
我們繼續趕路，我卻對他產生好奇，師傅，您真的修過車啊，現在怎麼開起了出租？
他笑了笑，把煙抽完，熄滅，過了一小會兒才說，以前我也有過一輛同樣款型的寶馬車。於是我知道了他的事。
三年前，他還是一家食品公司的經理。公司是自己開的，夫妻倆白手起家，用了十幾年時間，從手工作坊開始發展到食品廠，又發展成食品公司。那時，擁有過幾百萬的身家，三年前的一次意外事件，導致公司破產，一夜間，他從有錢人變成了窮人，甚至還背了數萬元的債務……
我像聽傳奇故事，目瞪口呆。呆了好半天才問他，那時候，很絕望吧？
他搖頭，也沒，只是有點失望。其實從開始創業的第一天就想過失敗，人生原本變幻無常，誰會一輩子都走得順風順水，當年年輕氣盛，想證明自己。其實對生活的願望本來就很簡單，像現在，一家人衣食無憂，日子一樣挺好……自始至終，他的口氣都平和安靜，沒有人生大起時的得意驕縱，也沒有人生大落後的自怨自艾。
忽然覺得這個男人很了不起。
新搬的小區門口，清早的一小段時間有人擺攤賣菜。其中有個阿姨的菜很新鮮，吆喝聲也響亮，只是看上去不太像菜販子。衣衫整潔，氣質清雅。慢慢發現，小區里的很多人都認得她，叫她張老師或者張主席，心裡有些詫異。有一次，忍不住詢問住在同一棟樓上、每天早上出來買菜的一位大姐，才知道那個賣菜的阿姨以前是一家企業的工會主席。很大的企業，上千人，這個小區，曾經也是企業的家屬區。那時候阿姨人長得好，有能力有魄力，企業紅火的那幾年，常常開會發言，出席各種場合，上過電視報紙，風光無限。
後來企業效益忽然不行了，然後一滑到底，很多員工下崗，沒幾年時間，那麼大的企業，說垮就垮了，大家各自拿著一筆遣散費回家……很多以前一線的員工都很快找到了工作，他們有技術也放得下面子。大家都以為，像她這樣曾經那麼風光又是學文出身的女人，也許會就此一蹶不振。可是出乎所有人意料，沒過幾天，她就開始買了輛三輪車擺攤賣菜了，並且只趕小區門前的早市，並不在乎出入小區門口的顧客，大都是自己曾經的下屬。
賣菜，她也比別的菜販賣得好，因為她勤勞，每天早早去批發市場挑選新鮮蔬菜，並且回來後先把菜清理一遍，重新紮好，擺放整齊……所以生意也好，每天早上一個小時左右菜就賣完了。大姐說，賣完菜回去，人家張老師還上網，晚上出來跳跳舞，活得滋潤著呢。口氣中，不無羨慕和敬佩。
第二天早上，忍不住在賣菜的阿姨攤前站了一會兒，看她在那裡飛快地稱菜，裝好，收錢，已經過了50歲的女人，笑容依然絢爛。
她，讓我想起那個曾經開過寶馬現在快樂地開著計程車的男人。或者生活中，有很多他們這樣的人，曾經成功過，曾經路過繁華喧囂，路過掌聲贊美，又在人生變故中回歸平淡寂靜。可是他們始終是他們，不會被這些人生變故打倒，始終平和地走在生命不同的處境中。經得起掌聲，也受得起落寞，這樣的人生，才是真正的美好人生