Prose of urban night returnees

Around us, there are such a group of people who are neither heirs nor masters of some intangible cultural heritage. I affectionately call them "craftsmen".

They go out early and return late, scattered all over the community, enriching community services, such as mending clothes, changing zippers and repairing shoes. They may have no business license, no shop facade, just a simple tool. If there were no bags to be repaired, I wouldn't notice them in the corner by the roadside.

That day, it was already 5 pm. When it gets dark early in winter, I try to repair the broken zipper. Just in front of us, under the dim street lamp, a middle-aged woman was behind the sewing machine, watching the stitches jump. I went over and asked, can you fix it? She said, "Yes". I saw that her whole body was wrapped up with only her red face and eyes. The corners of her eyes hung low, and there was no tension. She is wearing gloves, and her fingers are bare. The five fingers are rough cracks, which have nothing to do with smoothness. The old man who repaired shoes is ready to go. Seeing her coming to talk about business, he said sourly, "making money is important, but life is not important." She glanced at the shoemaker and continued to lower her head to repair my zipper. She said, "He didn't do well, so no one asked him to fix it." I said, "Never mind, it's time for you to go home!" "She said," I'll leave when I'm done for you. " "Just give me a simple sentence." She said, "that how line? It must be fixed. Work, I can't make do with it. I feel a little sorry for her, thinking, no matter how much money I want, I will give it to her!

If it weren't for accident, I never knew that there were such a group of people living on the edge of the city with that little skill. They are showing the self-esteem of a worker with their own practical actions, and they are willing to make so much money. Compared with beggars in the street, I respect them more and am more willing to give generously.

When the zipper was repaired, I said, "Let me help you with it!" " She said, "No, you come earlier next time! It will be cold when it gets dark! " At that moment, I really wanted to hug her. She is there every day. Even at the corner, she was shivering with the cold wind. Even if there is light, it is only a dim street lamp. After it was repaired, I went to the side and bought some other goods. On the way back, I saw that she was still bending down to load the sewing machine on the tricycle. I wanted to go up and help, but then I forgot about it. For her life, I am just a passer-by, and tomorrow will be the same. I just hope she can be better. ...

Looking at her back, she silently said, "It's cold, remember to go home early!" " "