The moment the subway door opened, I was almost squeezed out.
At 8:30 in the morning, people were sitting next to each other on Line 3, and even their breath carried the rotten smell unique to the morning. I was holding the lifting ring with one hand, and my eyelids were as heavy as lead. I worked overtime until three in the morning last night, and today I should hand in the last plan of the month.
The carriage shook, and I half-opened my eyes, my gaze passing over the head of the uncle opposite.
A line of blood-red numbers jumped out.
