Rain tapped the lobby windows. By five o'clock, the wooden stand by the door held only one umbrella, a yellow one with a duck on the handle. Anan took it and opened it. Outside, the street shone like a mirror.
雨点敲打着楼道里的窗户。到五点时，门边的木伞架上只剩一把伞，一把黄伞，伞柄上有一只小鸭子。安安拿起它，撑了开来。外面，街道亮得像一面镜子。
Then he saw Grandma Lin from the third floor. She carried two heavy bags and wore a thin cotton jacket. She looked at the empty stand, then at the rain. Anan's shoes were already wet. He walked back and held out the yellow umbrella without saying much.
这时，他看见三楼的林奶奶。她提着两个沉甸甸的袋子，穿着一件薄薄的棉外套。她看看空伞架，又看看雨。安安的鞋已经湿了。他走回去，没多说什么，把黄伞递了过去。
Grandma Lin smiled and said she only needed the bus stop. Anan walked beside her, holding the umbrella over both of them. The rain drummed on the yellow cloth. At the stop, she pressed a small raincoat into his hands.
林奶奶笑了，说她只要走到公交站。安安走在她身边，把伞举在两个人头顶。雨点敲着黄色的伞面。到了车站，她把一件小雨衣塞进他手里。
The raincoat was folded so neatly that it looked like a green package. Anan put it on and laughed at the lobby mirror. He looked like a small postbox with legs. Still, he was dry when he climbed the stairs, and that felt like a small victory.
雨衣叠得整整齐齐，像一个绿色的小包裹。安安穿上它，对着楼道镜子笑了。他看起来像个长了腿的小邮筒。不过，爬楼梯回家时他是干的，这让他觉得像打了一场小胜仗。
A week later, Anan found sticky notes in his desk. He wrote a short message for the umbrella stand: "If you borrow one, please bring one back." He drew a duck beside the words. He taped it to the wooden frame.
一周后，安安在书桌里找到一叠便利贴。他为伞架写了一句短短的话：“借一把，请还一把。”他在字旁画了一只小鸭子。他把纸条贴在木架上。
The next rainy day, the stand was full. Red umbrellas, blue ones, and a tiny pink one. Grandma Lin added a note of her own: "Take care of each other." Anan read it twice. The lobby no longer felt like a place where people hurried past.
下一个雨天，伞架满了。红的、蓝的，还有一把小小的粉色伞。林奶奶也加了一张自己的纸条：“互相照顾。”安安读了两遍。楼道不再像一个人人匆匆走过的地方了。