⑴ 急需一篇大概3000-5000字的短篇小说
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字的短篇言情小说
我是应届毕业生
嬉皮笑脸
北山和他的熊
『宗教裁判所』序章
⑶ 世界著名短篇小说
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 请问有没有世界著名短篇小说，请注明大概字数，谢谢大家了。如:莫泊桑项链5000。
莫泊桑：
西蒙的爸爸 ：4张纸
菲菲小姐：六张纸
我的叔叔于勒：5张纸
戴丽叶春楼：11张纸
马克吐温：
百万英镑：11张纸
竞选州长：3张纸
狗的自述：5张纸
还有中国的：
汪曾祺：
黄油烙饼：5张纸
受戒；10张纸
不够我再找，因为都是我在家翻书找的所以只能告诉你页数，不好意思哈
⑸ 请问有什么著名的5000，6000字左右的短篇世界著名小说，如莫泊桑<项链>，谢谢！
《一碗清汤荞麦面》 [日本] 栗良平《法律门前》 [德国] 卡夫卡《免费》 ［美］ 雪莉·凯撒《一天的等待》 [美国] 厄内斯特·海明威《没有锁上的门》 [美国] 罗伯特·斯特恩德力《小公务员之死》 [俄国] 契诃夫《穷苦人》 [俄] 列·托尔斯泰《“诺曼底”号遇难记》 [法国] 雨果《雨伞》 [日本] 川端康成《陈小手》 汪曾祺《陈奂生上城》 高晓声《没有完的故事》 [美国] 欧·亨利《热爱生命》 [美国] 杰克.伦敦《小丑》 [俄国] 屠格涅夫 《半张纸》 [瑞典] 斯特林堡《饥饿艺术家》 [奥地利] 卡夫卡《罗生门》 [日本] 介川龙之介《桔子》 [日本] 介川龙之介《鱼服记》 [日本] 太宰治《柏林之围》 [法国] 都德《夜》 [意大利]；路·皮兰德娄《阿拉比》 [爱尔兰] 詹姆斯·乔伊斯《羊脂球》 [法国] 莫泊桑
⑹ 有没有5000字左右的著名小说
莫泊桑的短篇小说，大概差不多有5000字~
⑺ 求古代短篇小说，是小小说，一篇5000字左右的那种，不要长篇~~~~~或者推荐一些这样的作家也行！！！
唐传奇，明清还有好多话本小说都可以的。比如三言二拍之类的，你稍微一搜就一大堆的。
⑻ 有名的作者（如：冰心、鲁迅）写的短篇小说，大约5000字以下。
林斤澜《春风》
北京人说：“春脖子短。”南方来的人觉着这个“脖子”有名无实，冬天刚过去，夏天就来到眼前了。 最激烈的意见是：“哪里会有什么春天，只见起风、起风，成天刮土、刮土，眼睛也睁不开，桌子一天擦一百遍……” 其实，意见里说的景象，不冬不夏，还得承认是春天。不过不像南方的春天，那也的确。褒贬起来着重于春风，也有道理。 起初，我也怀念江南的春天，“暮春三月，江南草长，杂花生树，群莺乱飞。”这样的名句是些老窖名酒，是色香味俱全的。这四句里没有提到风，风原是看不见的，又无所不在的。江南的春风抚摸大地，像柳丝的飘拂；体贴万物，像细雨的滋润。这才草长，花开，莺飞…… 北京的春风真就是刮土吗?后来我有了别样的体会，那是下乡的好处。 我在京西的大山里、京东的山边上，曾数度“春脖子”。背阴的岩下，积雪不管立春、春分，只管冷森森的，没有开化的意。是潭、是溪、是井台还是泉边，凡带水的地方，都坚持着冰块砚、冰溜、冰碴……一夜之间，春风来了。忽然，从塞外的苍苍草原、莽莽沙漠，滚滚而来。从关外扑过山头，漫过山粱，插山沟，灌山口，呜呜吹号，哄哄呼啸，飞沙走石，扑在窗户上，撒拉撤拉，扑在人脸上，如无数的针扎。 轰的一声，是哪里的河冰开裂吧。嘎的一声，是碗口大的病枝刮折了。有天夜间，我住的石头房子的木头架子，格拉拉、格拉拉响起来，晃起来。仿佛冬眠惊醒，伸懒腰，动弹胳臂腿，浑身关节挨个儿格拉拉、格拉拉地松动。 麦苗在霜冰里返青了，山桃在积雪里鼓苞了。清早，着大毂鞋，穿老羊皮背心，使荆条背篓，背带冰碴的羊粪，绕山嘴，上山梁，爬高高的梯田，春风呼哧呼哧地帮助呼哧呼哧的人们，把粪肥抛撒匀净。好不痛快人也。 北国的山民，喜欢力大无穷的好汉。到喜欢得不行时，连捎带来的粗暴也只觉着解气。要不，请想想，柳丝飘拂般的抚摸，细雨滋润般的体贴，又怎么过草原、走沙漠、扑山梁?又怎么踢打得开千里冰封和遍地赖着不走的霜雪? 如果我回到江南，老是乍暖还寒，最难将息，老是牛角淡淡的阳光，牛尾蒙蒙的阴雨，整天好比穿着湿布衫，墙角落里发霉，长蘑菇，有死耗子味儿。 能不怀念北国的春风!
⑼ 求一篇5000字左右的小说，不要言情，要原创，急急急急急！！！
世界以痛吻你
泰戈尔：世界以痛吻我，要我回报以歌。
小王子，允我唤你小王子。
因为你犹在天真烂漫的年纪，喜欢威风凛凛的披风和玩具长剑，当然，你有时候会扮作其他的，比如海盗、武林萌主甚至是五阿哥。
但我最喜欢你扮小王子的游戏。你用我的长围巾把我绑在窗台上，然后你骑着木马，痛打我的兔斯基玩偶，焦急的喊着：“我的公主，不要怕！”
是的，我不怕。我的内心充满了勇气，因为你把整个世界照亮了。
我怕保护不了你/SHIJIEYITONGWENNI
小王子怕黑，每天晚上，他都会溜进我的房间，哭丧着说:“我做噩梦了。”他爬到我的床上，瑟瑟发抖地给我描述他的梦境––他住在玻璃屋，如玫瑰般红艳的鲜血，开始是一点一滴打在窗户上，然后是涓涓细流，最后染红了整片屋顶。
我的床很小，小王子上来后，两个人就很挤。小王子睡相不好，总会抢被子或者是蹬被子。我身体不好，容易患感冒。第二天听见我咳嗽或是看见我擦鼻涕，小王子就满脸愧色。我偏爱喝中药，小王子却很讨厌，见我的药汁黑乎乎的，他的泪水就会“吧嗒吧嗒”掉下来，时常自己躲在墙角画圈圈，自责不已。
我知道小王子对我好，他每天放学早，就会拿着宝剑在我学校门口等我下晚自习。爸妈关他不住，他总会爬水管什么的偷溜出去。
每次放学，我只要远远的看见闪闪发光的彩色宝剑就知道小王子在等着我。那些暗恋我的少年永远没有机会送我回家。曾有人买了一盒巧克力哄爱吃甜食的小王子，以后不要来接我放学。小王子流着口水拒绝了，还挥舞着鲁莽的剑法，说：“要想抢走我的公主，先把我打赢。”
小王子不知道，他这装扮在别人眼里实际上是很可笑的。听到笑声，他好看的脸也暗淡了。我趁机劝他以后不如换其他衣服。我只是心疼他被别人笑，他却以为我也赞同。第二日来了，他穿的是蝙蝠侠的衣服，身材绷得紧紧的，唯一没忘的还是他的宝剑，横在胸前雄赳赳气昂昂地开路。
我偷偷把小王子的古怪衣服和宝剑藏起来。
那天晚上，小王子一直处于很惊恐的尖叫中，任谁去抱都被他挣开。
我不忍心，把宝剑还给他。他紧紧抱住，后怕的说：“我怕没有宝剑，我就保护不了你了。”
仰起的脸，单纯的让人掉眼泪。
我走了，没有人对他好∕SHIJIEYITONGWENNI
小王子不懂分别，我们至今最长的分别不过是我去异地参加艺考。小王子说我是他见过最漂亮的公主，白雪公主跟我比是煤炭，美人鱼跟我比是丑八怪，灰姑娘跟我比永远是灰姑娘。
他指着电视上的明星评头论足，说她们都比不上我。当然他会对儿童台的水果姐姐口下留情，红着脸说：“那个，她们还可以啦。”
其实小王子才是我见过最漂亮的人。黑曜石般的眼睛，玛瑙般的嘴唇以及田玉般的皮肤。
现在，我拿到上戏的通知书，不得不对我漂亮的小王子告别。
听说我的列车开走后，小王子还跟着列车跑了好远。风吹得他的披风猎猎作响，而我不敢回头看。
连着好几天，小王子给我打通宵的电话。说他的噩梦，说他会跋山涉水来救我，说他想我，说我走了，没有人对他好。
最后一句话听得我心如刀割。我知道爸爸妈妈不疼小王子。他们嫌弃小王子自己不会穿衣服，吃饭把米粒洒得到处都是，半夜会突然尖叫。妈妈脾气暴躁，会猛地扇小王子耳光。
一个月的电话费上千，如此昂贵，爸爸查出来是小王子打的，把他关在屋子里，拔掉了电话线。如果不是邻居家的妹妹听到了小王子整夜哭泣的声音打给我，我永远不会知道。那段无法联系我的日子，小王子和小鸟说：“小鸟，帮我给公主带句话，我想她了。”小王子和白云说：“白云，你行行好，当我的跟斗云，带我去找公主。”小王子和微风说：“风儿，你帮我吹吹公主，像我一样摸摸她的脸。”
他瘦成了瓜子脸，在没有我的保护下，无比畏惧这个世界，生怕行差踏错，再被关禁闭。
我教小王子上网，可他不会打字，不会拼音，QQ回得很慢，有时候气急败坏地敲一堆乱码过来。但是每天早上，总有一封简短却发于凌晨三四点的信，因为他那时候才写完，错别字连篇，我总是看着看着就伏案大
大学一年只能回家两次，我就尽量争取面试机会，让小王子有更多的机会看见我。大二的时候，我拍了个饮料广告，小王子整天守在电视前找我。若电视不放广告，他就规规矩矩地坐在楼下的小卖部里，吆喝着：“好喝的饮料哦！买一瓶嘛！”
宇宙都满满的∕SHIJIEYITONGWENNI
我谈了恋爱，不知道怎么对小王子说。他会生气吧，他总是挥舞着宝剑，阻止靠近我的男生；他会哭泣吧，他总是抱着我哀求别抛下他一个人；他会委屈吧，是不是他不够强，所以我要靠别人来保护。
南浩提了许多次，要陪我回家见父母。其实，父母不认同，我可以与他私奔，小王子不认同，我却会进退两难。
回程的火车上，我艰难地开口：“小王子是我最重要的人。如果他不同意······”
“你会离开我吧？”南浩笑笑，仿佛答案他已经猜中了。 回到家，爸妈问了南浩的家庭情况，知道他家是开外贸公司的，家里有四台车，他爸妈和他自己各一台，还有一台闲着玩。于是就眉开眼笑。
小王子却是不客气地问他有多喜欢我。南浩说：“很喜欢。”小王子让他比比看。南浩指着心，说这里都塞得满满的。小王子打开了灯，说他的喜欢把房间都装的满满的。南浩指着地球仪，说地球都满满的。小王子指着太阳，说宇宙都满满的。南浩眉头不展，从上午想到下午，晚上逛街时见着小王子羡慕地看着坐在父亲肩上的小孩，于是南浩抱着小王子说：“我不仅装着你姐姐，还装着你。”
临走时，小王子眼眶红红地把他的宝剑和披风都送给了南浩。
我很吃惊地问为什么。
南浩扭着僵硬的脖子，小王子拍着手说：“南浩哥哥让我骑脖子。他是第一个。”
对他忠诚到永远/SHIJIEYITONGWENNI
我毕业时，已经受够了娱乐圈的种种规则。我遇见过小王子喜欢的水果姐姐，虽然是儿童台的主持，也和雅痞们抽烟喝酒，烟视媚行。我想请她去小王子的生日会上制造惊喜，她也答应了，但没做好心理准备，见到小王子的瞬间爆笑出眼泪：“你怎么这么搞笑，这化的花花绿绿的妆是怎么回事？这是什么?披风?宝剑?天啊，你真是个极品！”
小王子总是问我：“为什么那么多人笑话我?”
我无法回答。
我想拥抱他，可事实是，一米八九的他高大得让我踮脚也难以拥抱。他今年已经二十三岁，却永远停留在五岁的智商。
我对南浩哭着说过，十七岁的时候，我做着明星梦，根据网上的一个艺人经纪工作室地址去拍艺术照片。到了那幢小楼，男人关上了铁门，让我脱衣服，说电影公司都会看看女艺人的身体条件好不好。我越脱越少，越来越觉得心慌。我借口去洗手间打电话给小王子。
那是，他还不是小王子，他是引无数少女疯狂的篮球高手。他接到我的电话，匆匆赶来，执意带我走并砸烂了工作室的所有东西。男人气得拿起一个花瓶。
血流如注，就像小王子的梦境。
他醒来，忘记自己十六岁，忘记自己是高中生。他只记得年少时的单纯小快乐。
南浩向我求婚，正好我倦了势力的娱乐圈，倦了冷漠的家庭。
我们的婚礼，小王子半夜都会拿着设计图来找我，他设计了巧克力喷泉、棉花树和姜饼宫殿。
南浩主动让他当伴郎。
婚礼时，主持人问南浩：“你是否愿意无论是顺境或逆境，富裕或贫穷，健康或疾病，快乐或忧愁，你都将毫无保留地爱她，对她忠诚直到永远?”
抢在南浩发声前回答的是小王子，带着娇憨纯真的笑容，迫不及待地说：“我愿意。”
全文完。 可以吗
⑽ 求一些中短篇励志小说2000至5000字左右的！有追加悬赏！
曾经路过掌声
文/岳治全
那天出城办事，拦下一辆八成新的出租车。师傅四十多岁，微胖，休闲衣装，一脸笑容，他很爱笑，话却不怎么多，什么都不多问也不好奇，倒是我问一句他答一句，很平和的口气。
快出城区时，看到前方路边有个年轻男人在招手，很焦急的表情。旁边，一辆闪着应急灯的车停在那里。前面的车并没有停，擦着招手的年轻人飞驰而过。
师傅开到近前，转头试探询问，你要是不急我下去看看？大概车坏了。我笑着说好，这年头，热心人已不多见。
他稳稳将车子泊在那辆亮着应急灯的车后，打开车门。我好奇，也跟着下车走过去，才看清停在那里的是辆原装进口的宝马。
怎么了，师傅问。西装革履的年轻男人眉头蹙着，车忽然熄火了，不知道出了什么故障，附近也找不到修理厂，想雇个车拖回城去，这还急着办事呢！
师傅笑笑，要不，我来看看？
年轻男人一愣。师傅解释，我以前修过车。
年轻男人依然犹豫，显然信不过眼前这个出租车司机，可是又没有更好的办法，只好迟疑着将师傅领到宝马车前。师傅坐进车内试了试，然后下车将前盖打开，两三分钟，轻轻将前盖盖上，回头对年轻男人说，一点小问题，现在应该可以了。
年轻男人将信将疑，坐上车去启动车子，果然一切恢复正常。他赶快下了车道谢，拿出一盒烟来。今天表妹出嫁，刚借了朋友的车过去帮帮场子，谁想……
师傅从盒子里抽出一支烟来，点上，摆摆手，赶快走吧，喜事赶早不赶晚。然后对我说，不好意思哦，耽搁你的时间了……
我们继续赶路，我却对他产生好奇，师傅，您真的修过车啊，现在怎么开起了出租？
他笑了笑，把烟抽完，熄灭，过了一小会儿才说，以前我也有过一辆同样款型的宝马车。于是我知道了他的事。
三年前，他还是一家食品公司的经理。公司是自己开的，夫妻俩白手起家，用了十几年时间，从手工作坊开始发展到食品厂，又发展成食品公司。那时，拥有过几百万的身家，三年前的一次意外事件，导致公司破产，一夜间，他从有钱人变成了穷人，甚至还背了数万元的债务……
我像听传奇故事，目瞪口呆。呆了好半天才问他，那时候，很绝望吧？
他摇头，也没，只是有点失望。其实从开始创业的第一天就想过失败，人生原本变幻无常，谁会一辈子都走得顺风顺水，当年年轻气盛，想证明自己。其实对生活的愿望本来就很简单，像现在，一家人衣食无忧，日子一样挺好……自始至终，他的口气都平和安静，没有人生大起时的得意骄纵，也没有人生大落后的自怨自艾。
忽然觉得这个男人很了不起。
新搬的小区门口，清早的一小段时间有人摆摊卖菜。其中有个阿姨的菜很新鲜，吆喝声也响亮，只是看上去不太像菜贩子。衣衫整洁，气质清雅。慢慢发现，小区里的很多人都认得她，叫她张老师或者张主席，心里有些诧异。有一次，忍不住询问住在同一栋楼上、每天早上出来买菜的一位大姐，才知道那个卖菜的阿姨以前是一家企业的工会主席。很大的企业，上千人，这个小区，曾经也是企业的家属区。那时候阿姨人长得好，有能力有魄力，企业红火的那几年，常常开会发言，出席各种场合，上过电视报纸，风光无限。
后来企业效益忽然不行了，然后一滑到底，很多员工下岗，没几年时间，那么大的企业，说垮就垮了，大家各自拿着一笔遣散费回家……很多以前一线的员工都很快找到了工作，他们有技术也放得下面子。大家都以为，像她这样曾经那么风光又是学文出身的女人，也许会就此一蹶不振。可是出乎所有人意料，没过几天，她就开始买了辆三轮车摆摊卖菜了，并且只赶小区门前的早市，并不在乎出入小区门口的顾客，大都是自己曾经的下属。
卖菜，她也比别的菜贩卖得好，因为她勤劳，每天早早去批发市场挑选新鲜蔬菜，并且回来后先把菜清理一遍，重新扎好，摆放整齐……所以生意也好，每天早上一个小时左右菜就卖完了。大姐说，卖完菜回去，人家张老师还上网，晚上出来跳跳舞，活得滋润着呢。口气中，不无羡慕和敬佩。
第二天早上，忍不住在卖菜的阿姨摊前站了一会儿，看她在那里飞快地称菜，装好，收钱，已经过了50岁的女人，笑容依然绚烂。
她，让我想起那个曾经开过宝马现在快乐地开着出租车的男人。或者生活中，有很多他们这样的人，曾经成功过，曾经路过繁华喧嚣，路过掌声赞美，又在人生变故中回归平淡寂静。可是他们始终是他们，不会被这些人生变故打倒，始终平和地走在生命不同的处境中。经得起掌声，也受得起落寞，这样的人生，才是真正的美好人生