The bus, as usual, drove very slowly, swaying
The people inside also swayed along with it, like a pendulum, repeating at a fixed frequency
From birth,
to shaking,
to Death.
Zhou Ze stood beside the old man, his hand grabbing the handrail above. There were many people around, but there was not much pressure. After all, they were all made of paper.
The old man raised his head and looked at Zhou Ze. He smiled a little embarrassedly and said apologetically,
"My legs aren't well. I have rheumatism."
Zhou Ze nodded.
"Although I know it won't hurt now because I'm already dead, I still feel pain when I see the heavy rain outside."
The old man looked at the pouring rain outside the window, and his eyes revealed a nostalgic look.
Old Rheumatism had accompanied him for many years, from the initial torture, slowly to numbness, and finally to habit
Until the day he became a ghost after his death,
